


Ineffable University

by FishingforCrows



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-07-12 15:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19948873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishingforCrows/pseuds/FishingforCrows
Summary: Aziraphale Christenson is a reclusive English major who fears that his family's involvement in his university is the only reason he got in. Anthony Crowley is a party loving business major who would rather drop out, but can't if he wants to continue living off his family's money. They meet one night at a party and become very fascinated with each other.





	1. Green Apple Schnapps

**Author's Note:**

> YEEHAW this is a very self indulgent and spur of the moment thing I decided to write based on a conversation in my discord server (shout out to you guys who I know are gonna read it lmao). Idk how many chapters it's gonna be or where it's gonna go but y'all are along for the ride so STRAP IN
> 
> Might change the rating later depending on if I decide to add more spicy content, so heads up.
> 
> Also I posted this earlier, 26 people read it, I then got way more ideas and deleted it so sorry to those people.

_It’ll be fun, they said. Just a couple of friends, very relaxed, they said._ Aziraphale thought to himself regretfully as he sat on the couch of a stranger’s basement-level flat, beginning to get a headache from the music blasting out of the speaker. He propped his chin up with his hand and sighed, watching drunken people trying to unsuccessfully navigate the packed living room without spilling their drinks. Someone emerged from the kitchen with a tray of neon-green shots and was greeted with cheers.

“Who wants green apple schnapps?!” The newcomer called out, laughing as he began handing them out.

_Oh great, just what they need,_ Aziraphale thought bitterly as he watched the student coerce people into taking more of the little green glasses off his tray. He had to be a student, everyone at this party was, but Aziraphale didn’t recognize him. That wasn’t surprising though, the reclusive English major didn’t talk to many people outside of those who he had class with. He honestly wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into going to this party by a project partner in the first place, but he was here now and he had agreed to drive some people home so he couldn’t very well leave. Lost in his thoughts, he just kept on staring at the guy handing out shots. He had dark red hair that fell down to his shoulders in loose curls, though it was pinned back on one side to show off a very avant-garde undercut. Going along with the punk hair was a very tight pair of black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt that cut off above his belly button, showing off his lean stomach.

Just as Aziraphale was wondering if his stomach was cold in that shirt, he turned around, and looked directly at him. He blushed and stiffened, immediately turning his head away as if he hadn’t just been staring at him, but it was too late. Out of his periphery he could see that flash of scarlet hair getting closer. Then the mystery drink-provider plopped down on the couch next to him, a little too close for comfort, their thighs bumping up against one and other.

“Hi,” The redhead said. There wasn’t much point in pretending not to see him anymore so Aziraphale turned to face him. “I’m Anthony, Anthony Crowley,”

“Hello Anthony,” Aziraphale replied curtly with a nod.

“Most people call me the second half,” He replied with a cheeky smile, giggling drunkenly. “Crowley, that is. What’s your name?”

“Aziraphale,”

“Az…Azazafil… what the fuck kind of name s’that?” Crowley slurred, cocking his head to the side in confusion as he wrestled with the unfamiliar syllables.

“It means ‘of Raphael’. Raphael is the Archangel of healing and my father is the head of the school of medicine so he thought it would be an appropriate name. Of course, I think he picked it in the hopes I’d become a doctor like him,” He began to ramble, as he tended to do when he was nervous. Something about this Crowley made him profoundly uncomfortable. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t used to talking to new people, or maybe it was because he could tell how drunk the other man was, or maybe it was just how damn close he had decided to sit. Whatever it was, it had Aziraphale fidgeting in his seat as though he were about to take a test.

“It’s an angel?” Crowley piped up, latching on to one of the words that had come spilling out of Aziraphale’s mouth. “Angel it is then, hell of a lot easier to say,” Aziraphale blushed at his mouth hung agape in shock. That seemed an awfully familiar nickname for someone he’d only met thirty seconds ago. He was about to say so, but then Crowley flashed him such a warm, self-satisfied grin that the outrage he’d felt dissolved like sugar in hot tea.

“A-alright then,” He muttered laughing awkwardly, an uncomfortable fluttering feeling rising in his chest.

“So, Angel, can I tempt you to a shot?” He held up the last shot glass of violent green liquid, leaning closer to offer it to him.

“Oh, n-no thank you,” Aziraphale tried to lean away, only to realize that somehow Crowley’s other arm had wound up on the couch behind him, and he was now leaning into that. That insufferable fluttering got worse and he realized it was his heart beating much faster than was necessary.

“Oh come ooooooon,” Crowley groaned disappointedly, though he still was wearing a very charming smile. From this close up to his face Aziraphale could see that he was also wearing some artfully applied black eyeliner, framing his golden-hazel eyes. He didn’t think he had ever seen hazel eyes like that, with so much yellow in them. He felt like they could look right through him. “I haven’t seen you have a single drink all night, what’s one shot going to hurt?”

“I’m a designated driver, I have a responsibility to make sure everyone gets home safe,” Aziraphale tried to make his voice sound as resolute as possible. Perhaps if he sounded steadfast, he could pretend he wasn’t actually very enticed to down that poisonous looking sludge right this second.

“Fat lot of good that’ll do,” Crowley snorted skeptically. “I know some of these guys well enough to tell you they’re going to try and drive a girl back to their place no matter what,” His eyes scanned around the room lazily, as though he were mentally picking out exactly who he was referring to, before falling back on to Aziraphale who he still had trapped on the couch.

“Well… I took some extra precautions,” Crowley raised his eyebrows, silently asking the other student what he meant. Aziraphale looked away guiltily as he reached into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back out it contained several sets of car keys. Crowley looked stunned and laughed loudly.

“Did you steal those?” His voice was full of disbelief and his expression showed that his expectations were thoroughly overturned at that point. Aziraphale smiled sheepishly, his cheeks deep red with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. Suddenly the arm that was behind him was clapping him on the back. “That’s so-… God that’s so… _responsible!_ ” Crowley laughed, seemingly thoroughly entertained. Aziraphale’s smile widened just a bit at that, feeling a bit better at having rifled through his classmates’ pockets.

“Exactly,” He giggled. “That’s what I said, it’s my responsibility,”

After that, Crowley seemed to take even more of a liking to him and ended up sticking around to chat. They of course had the mandatory university student conversation of ‘So what are you studying?’ during which Aziraphale discovered that Crowley was a business major. That made sense why he had never even seen him before, they probably didn’t have any classes in common. The redhead seemed very disinterested in discussing his own major, though he appeared to listen with rapt fascination as Aziraphale explained why he was interested in English. He asked far more questions, the kind someone asks when they’re genuinely fascinated in the conversation, than Aziraphale had expected from someone so intoxicated. Even if Crowley could barely pronounce “Beowulf”, he still found it very charming that he had taken such an interest.

Once the topic of school had run its course there was a lull in conversation. Aziraphale half expected Crowley to leave and go rejoin the others in their dancing and drinking. That would have been fine by him, he had thoroughly enjoyed this conversation but he would hate to monopolize his time if he’d rather be having fun. Then Crowley lolled his head to the side to look at him.

“D’you wanna see my snake?”

Aziraphale gawked at him, certain he had heard him wrong. His eyes flicked down involuntarily to Crowley’s legs, which were spread open the way he was sitting, his hand resting on his inner thigh in a way that had to be suggestive. Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed bright red and he bristled. “Excuse me?” He sputtered loudly in a scandalized voice, certain his heart was threatening to escape his ribs with how hard it was beating. “I just met you and that is not the kind of thing I think is appropriate-” Crowley looked confused as he started to rant, only for realization to dawn on his face.

“Oh! No, no, no, no, shit that did come out wrong,” Crowley said hurriedly, putting up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I mean- I was talking- I have a pet snake,” He explained through a sudden fit of laughter.

“O-oh…” Aziraphale was internally kicking himself. _Of course it was innocent, snake? Who actually calls it a snake? Why did my mind go there?_ He felt incredibly stupid. “Sure, yes I’d uh… like to look at it,” He said, clearing his throat and trying to put the conversation back on a normal track.

Crowley was still laughing as he unlocked his phone and scrolled through his pictures. “If I wanted to show you the other snake, I’d at least take you to dinner first,” He joked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Aziraphale craved a swift and painless death.

After a bit of looking, Crowley held up the screen to show Aziraphale. On it was a picture of a small yellow and white python wrapped around a hand which he assumed belonged to Crowley. He didn’t particularly like snakes, he actually found them somewhere between gross and scary depending on the size. He feigned a smile anyway. “It’s… cute,” He said, not knowing how one was supposed to describe a pet snake. Perhaps it was because he was drunk, but Crowley didn’t see through his thin veil of happiness. He lit up when Aziraphale complimented the snake.

“Isn’t she?” He asked with a broad grin. Then, to the English major’s surprise, he launched into a lengthy discussion on where he’d bought her, how to take care of snakes, why snakes had such a bad reputation. Just endlessly and emphatically going on about snakes. At one point he gestured so enthusiastically he fell back on to the couch. He just seemed to roll with it though, lying back as he kept talking, bringing his legs up and plopping them right across Aziraphale’s lap to stretch out. There was that blasted heartbeat again, Aziraphale took a deep breath to try and calm down as he agonized over where his hands should be in that situation. They had previously been in his lap but now legs where in his lap; legs he did not want to just casually place his hands on, not after the ‘wanna see my snake’ incident. So, he ended up just awkwardly holding them in front of his chest, fingers interwoven almost like he was praying for a merciful god to release him from leg purgatory.

His prayers went unanswered though, and he spent the rest of the party trapped under those legs, fretting every time his hand even so much as grazed them. He was relieved when they finally started kicking people out. Aziraphale freed himself from under Crowley and went to go find the people he had agreed to take home. Just as he was about to walk out the door, someone slung their arm around his neck, making him jump slightly.

“Bye Eve! Great party! No need to call an uber, I’ve got a ride,” Crowley had his arm around him and was calling back over his shoulder to the hostess of the party.

“Wha… What? That wasn’t-” Aziraphale stuttered in confusion. Crowley looked at him with wide, pleading eyes, pushing out his lower lip. 

“Oh come on, Angel, you’ve got room for one more, right? I’ll sit on someone’s lap if I have to,” He said plaintively. Aziraphale felt as though he couldn’t say no. He rationalized it that he was just taking his duty as designated driver very seriously, but deep down he knew that those golden eyes twinkling at him had something to do with it in a way he wasn’t ready to examine. Speechless, he just nodded and gestured forward to indicate they should all get going. Crowley grinned and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks! I call shotgun!”

With that, Crowley and six other students all piled into Aziraphale’s mother’s white minivan which he was borrowing for the weekend. He had a sneaking suspicion the fact he had come to a meeting for his group project in a vehicle with more than four seats was the only reason he’d been invited in the first place. “Um, I asked them all their addresses earlier,” Aziraphale said after he got into the driver’s seat, addressing Crowley. “Where am I taking you?”

“I live really far,” Crowley said vaguely, waving off his question. “I might even just have you drop me at a bus stop. Take them all home first and then I’ll tell you where to go,”

Aziraphale sighed at that lack of answer, but he put the key in the ignition anyway and started to drive. Most of the others lived in nearby student accommodations, since the party had been close to campus, so it only took about twenty minutes to get them all dropped off to the right addresses. That just left Crowley.

“Soooo…” Aziraphale started, turning down the radio. “Can I get that address now or…?” He asked awkwardly. Crowley had his feet up on the dashboard with his hands behind his head.

“Why don’t you just take me to your place instead?” He teased, raising his eyebrows. At least, Aziraphale assumed he was teasing. Surely, he was making fun of him because of the miscommunication they’d had earlier.

“No thanks,” He said dryly and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a kill joy, Angel,” Crowley replied. “The night is still young. We could have a little after-party. Now that you don’t have anyone else to drop off you could have a couple of drinks, relax a bit,” His tone was smooth and coercive. No wonder he was a studying business, he’d make an excellent salesman.

Aziraphale gave an exasperated chuckle. So that was what he wanted, to keep partying. “Except I do have someone to drop off and it’s you,”

Crowley looked slightly put-out at that. “Turn up here,” He grumbled reluctantly.

Eventually, with Crowley’s instructions, they pulled up in front of a lavish, modern-looking residential building. “Here you are,” Aziraphale told him, relieved that after this he could finally go home and go to sleep. “Pleasure talking to you. Really, you made the party a lot more fun than I expected it to be…” He had started talking only to trail off when he looked over at the passenger’s seat and found Crowley was staring at him quite intently. It looked like he was sizing him up, but for what, he didn’t know. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he grasped frantically for a reason why the redhead might be looking at him like that. “Ah… um… is this not the right address-” He started to ask but before he could finish, Crowley had leaned across the center console, his face now inches away from Aziraphale’s. He felt a hand come up to cup his cheek with a feather-light touch and watched in fascination and terror as Crowley tilted his head to the side.

Then, in an instant, their lips were touching. His body was frozen, stock still and stiff. His mind was nothing but static; warm, fuzzy, static. All he could even begin to focus on was the sensation of hot lips, gently pressed against his own. His eyes were closed, _when did they close?_ He certainly hadn’t closed them on purpose. But with them closed he could somehow feel what was happening even more intensely. Soft skin moving and dancing against his mouth, a hand cradling his jawline, a tongue curiously gliding along his bottom lip. He let it in, he didn’t know what came over him but he parted his lips and then he was tasting saliva mixed with the bitter ghosts of alcohol. He moved his tongue in response, cautious and uncertain, but allowing it because it just felt so good.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Crowley was pulling away with a satisfied smirk and sultry, heavy-lidded eyes. Aziraphale’s mind started up again, the physical sensation being pulled away seemed to make way for a tidal wave of panicked and confused thoughts to rush in. _What just happened? Why did he do that?_ _What do I do now?_

Crowley opened the door and got out.


	2. Remember Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley feels as though he made a massive mistake after the party. He wants to track down the guy he kissed to apologize, but can't remember his name. When he finds it out, he discovers some surprising information.

“Well I don’t know if that was enough to convince you, but if you’d like to come up-”

Before Crowley could even finish his sentence, he heard the car door slam behind him. He jumped, not expecting that. Especially considering Aziraphale had to lean all the way over from the driver’s side to close it. He barely had time to turn around before the car’s engine started up again and it sped away.

“Ngk,” Crowley choked on the rest of his words that he hadn’t gotten to say. His shoulders fell. He felt like had been really misjudging how the night was going if Aziraphale was that upset by a kiss. After all, he had been flirting from the very moment he sat down next to the cute, chubby blonde. He’d leaned up against him, put out some flirty banter, and even had his legs across his lap at one point. Aziraphale had seemed receptive, he was chatty and never once pushed him off. Sure, he looked nervous and embarrassed, but Crowley just figured that was because he was a bit shy.

Or maybe, he thought, he’d read his sexuality wrong. _Did I just kiss a straight guy?_ Slamming the door and driving off was a very dramatic way of saying ‘no homo’. He could have sworn he was gay, or at the very least bi. Sitting in the middle of a raging party wearing an oversized jumper and looking positively bored, Crowley had pegged him as some sort of pretentious, artsy, hipster type, and definitely the kind of guy to mess around with other guys in university. Then he started to flirt with him and he kept on blushing the way he did, it just seemed like he was interested.

“This is why we ask! This is why we ask, Anthony, instead of assuming!” He groaned aloud to himself, scrubbing his face with his hands. Crestfallen, he sighed heavily and headed up stairs to his flat.

He collapsed on his bed, face down, not bothering to get undressed. He did, at least, kick off his shoes. He felt woozy. The alcohol and shame catching up with him and causing his head to swim. He closed his eyes and let them pull him slowly into unconsciousness. He’d regret it all in the morning; but for now, he would rest.

Were it not for the several ounces of toxic liquid sitting on his bladder, Crowley might have slept for the next twenty-four hours. Instead, he was forced awake at noon. He stumbled out of the bathroom, bleary-eyed and dehydrated. His stomach churned and rumbled for food. His next stop was the kitchen. He shoved some cold, two-day old, takeaway pizza into his mouth. He barely had the energy to chew. He slumped down at the kitchen table and pulled his phone out of his back pocket, still in the jeans from the night before, though now the fly and the button were hanging open. As he lazily took another bite and scrolled through posts from his friends about the night before the memory of that shy blonde wormed its way to the front of his mind.

He let out a quite groan of pain at the thought. He felt so incredibly stupid for the stunt he’d pulled. That guy had been nice, and fun to talk to; even if he wasn’t interested in men, it might have been nice to get to know him. He seemed really interesting, and like he didn’t get out much. The kind of person it would be fun to try and get out of his shell. But now he probably thought Crowley was some sort of predator. He rubbed his temples, nursing his headache and his bruised feelings.

Then another thought hit him. _What if that guy goes around telling people I’m a creep?_ Anxiety began to coil in the pit of his stomach. After all, he had drove off in such a rush, it seemed like he was really freaked out by the kiss. He wouldn’t put it past some prudish straight guy, to start slandering him for a kiss like that. He didn’t care much about his reputation, but being thought of as a sexual predator was where he drew a hard line. He felt like he might throw up at the idea. He scrambled in his brain for what he could do.

He cursed himself for not asking for his number or his twitter handle or something while they had still been chatting. Then he could message him and play up the fact he was drunk. Say he was absolutely sloshed and been just trying to mess with him. He considered looking him up on Facebook. _But what was his name?_ It had been some weird, long, biblical name. He put his head in his hands as he realized that he was never going to be able to guess at that spelling. All he could really remember was it had started with an A, and he had called him Angel.

He sighed, admonishing himself for being such an idiot and not just trying to learn his real name. Losing all hope of rectifying the situation, all he felt like he could do right now was try to force the knot of anxiety in his stomach as far down as it would go. He chalked it up as a lost cause and went to go get cleaned up. He might not be able to fix his mistakes from last night, but he could at least wash some of the sweat left over from them.

It had been his full intention to skip his afternoon class that day. He only really went sporadically enough to keep from flunking out anyway. However, he needed something to distract him from the swirling clouds of dread that had begun to form in his head before they became a full-on storm.

He walked into the lecture hall and made a beeline for a seat in the back, next to his friend Eve. She looked pretty worse for the wear, no doubt also nursing a hangover since she had been the one hosting the party last night.

“How’re you?” Crowley greeted her as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. 

“Awful,” She groaned, resting her chin in her hands, her brow furrowed with pain.

“Got everything cleaned up before your roommate came home this morning?” He asked, trying not to be distracted by his own thoughts.

“No,” She replied miserably. “The place was a mess and she’s absolutely pissed. I think she’s going to kick my boyfriend and I out,”

“For one party? She must be fucking mental,”

“She was pretty clear how she feels about drinking…”

The lecture began and the two of them quieted down. Most people were on their laptops, about half were actually taking notes. Crowley was dicking around on reddit. He couldn’t even really pay attention to that, though. His mind was still preoccupied with what an absolute idiot he had been. He glanced over to Eve next to him. Then he subtly leaned towards her, his hand over his chin, obscuring his mouth. They were far enough back that he thought the professor wouldn’t notice if they were whispering.

“Did you see that guy I was talking to last night?” He asked quietly. A curious smile lit up her face at that, obviously ready to hear some gossip.

“Yeah did you take him home?” She replied eagerly.

“No, I struck out,” He told her with a grimace.

“Booooo,” She jeered, still whispering but loud enough to get the professor to glance at them. They both froze for a minute and looked at their screens, pretending to be typing so it seemed like they were paying attention. When the professor turned to the board again Crowley glared at her.

“Fuck off,” He hissed, she giggled in response. “Anyway, I can’t remember his name. Do you know it?” She looked at him oddly, as if she was surprised by that question.

“It’s Aziraphale Christenson, don’t you know him?” Her tone made it sound like he was missing something obvious.

“No. Why? Should I?” He asked tersely, tensing up slightly at her apparent judgement.

“His dad or something is the dean of students. He’s always right up front at school events and I’m pretty sure he goes here for free. I’m really surprised you haven’t at least heard of him. People gripe about the fact that he got in here because of his family,” She explained. “But from what I’ve heard he’s pretty nice, keeps to himself mostly,”

Crowley raised his eyebrows slowly as he processed those words, both impressed and horrified by this new information. Not only had he scared some straight idiot with a kiss, but he had scared some straight idiot that could probably get him kicked out with the snap of his fingers. He wanted to slam his head into a wall.

After class was over Crowley went straight back to his flat. He had taken his python out of her tank and had her wrapped around his arm. Something about her smooth scales slowly gliding over his fingers always managed to calm him down, make him feel connected to himself.

He held his phone in his other hand, ready to go with his plan from earlier of tracking Aziraphale down and waving the whole thing away as a drunken joke gone wrong. He searched Aziraphale Christenson on Instagram, and of course, only one came up. It would be unlikely to find any other accounts with a name like that. He clicked on it and for was pleased to see that it wasn’t private. It was mostly pictures of food, or of old books. Recently though, he had posted a selfie in front of an old bookshop somewhere in Soho. The caption was ‘at my favorite spot again! I would buy this old place if I could!’. Crowley felt the corners of his lips twitch upward. Something about that smile, those rosy cheeks, it made him melt just a bit. If only Crowley hadn’t fucked everything up the way he did, he lamented to himself, maybe it could have gone somewhere. He had assumed the reason Aziraphale rushed off was because he was straight but some little imp in his head kept reminding him that when he kissed him, Aziraphale had kissed back. He hadn’t pushed him away, or sat there stiff, he had closed his eyes and opened his mouth and leaned his head into his hand.

Crowley shook his head aggressively. That didn’t matter, he told himself, what mattered was the part after where he slammed the door without bothering to say goodbye. That wasn’t the reaction of someone who was into you back. He tried to smother that little thing in his head that was still holding out hope, but maybe he didn’t try quite that hard; the thought dimmed, but still flickered.

He clicked the button that said “Message” and began typing. He must have typed out every different variation of ‘hello I’m that drunk asshole from last night please don’t tell your dad to kick me out’ but ended up deleting it every time. If he was going to sell the idea of not meaning the kiss, he couldn’t come across as too panicked.

‘Hey’

The second he hit the send button he felt like the biggest clown in the circus. He rushed to try and think of way to make things less weird. His eyes glanced at his snake and he remembered how much he had talked about her last night. He clicked the camera button and it opened up his front camera. Then he held her up next to his face, snapped a picture, and sent it.

‘Remember us?’

Crowley was about to lock his phone and legitimately consider throwing himself off the balcony when he saw that Aziraphale had seen his message. He watched the little animated ellipses pop up and he held his breath as he waited for the reply.

‘Haha, yes I do’

That was the perfectly neutral reply Crowley had hoped for. Not a reaction of disgust, not telling him to fuck off, not automatically blocking him, just a bit of dry small-talk to get the ball rolling. He could have cheered.

‘Wanted to say sorry about last night, lol, I was fucking plastered. Didn’t mean to be such a prick’

‘Oh, haha, yeah you seemed really drunk. Glad you got home safe!’

This was going a million times better than Crowley had planned. He was practically giddy, it didn’t seem like Aziraphale was even the slightest bit mad at him. It kind of sounded like he had already written it off as Crowley being drunk without him even having to intervene. He gave a sigh of relief as he finally let all the tension he’d been holding on to go. Maybe it was going a bit too well, though, because that tiny voice in Crowley’s head chanting ‘he kissed back’ over and over was starting to get louder. He typed out another reply and his finger hovered over the send button for a moment, hesitating, before landing on the screen impulsively.

‘All thanks to you, I owe you one. We should hang out sometime’

In that half a minute between when the word ‘seen’ appeared beneath his message and when Aziraphale finally replied, Crowley swore his heart stopped beating.

‘Sure!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are these chapters literally longer than like any other thing I've written?? This au is giving me a lot of material for some reason lmao


	3. The Rod of Asclepius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale makes plans to hang out with Crowley and struggles to keep his expectations in check.

Of course Crowley had just been drunk. When Aziraphale read those words, it was like finally being given permission to let go of a heavy weight. After he had gotten home last night, he had hardly slept, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning as he replayed everything that had happened in his mind. He couldn’t entirely explain why he’d run off like he did. It was embarrassing to admit, but no one had ever come on to him before. He didn’t know how to respond. It felt like everything had just accelerated so quickly, first Crowley was leaning all over him at the party and then next thing he knew they were kissing in the car. The whole situation just felt so overwhelming that he panicked and did the first thing that popped into his brain. Which was running away with his tail between his legs.

He imagined it made him seem incredibly immature to Crowley. He’d been so smooth and suave, so debonair, the life of the party. That made it even more confusing as to why, out of all the people there, who he no doubt had the pick of, he had chosen to kiss Aziraphale. Aziraphale, who was sure he was so tangibly awkward he must come off as someone who had been locked in a tower for the past nineteen years.

So, when Crowley explained that he was ‘plastered’ the world seemed to make sense again. He hadn’t actually been hitting on him, of course not. No, he had just been so drunk that he had taken the joke a little bit too far. He even apologized for it, how nice of him.

Aziraphale sighed as he sat at his desk and stared at the words on his phone. He was relieved to have an explanation, but he was also, inexplicably, a little hurt. There was a moment, as he had looked up at his ceiling last night, trying to calm down from the emotional rollercoaster he’d just been on, that he had let himself believe that someone as outgoing, charming, and attractive as Crowley had kissed him just because he wanted to. He knew better though, and this confirmed it. Nobody like that would kiss him in their right mind.

Then another message popped up, and once again his world was rocked, though not quite as hard as before.

‘All thanks to you, I owe you one. We should hang out sometime’

Crowley wanted to see him again. _Why?_ He wondered. As he had already established, Crowley was far too cool for the likes of him. So, what could possibly compel him to want to hang out again?

He thought back to the way Crowley had listened so intently as he explained why he genuinely enjoyed dissecting literature in Old English. Then he remembered the way he had passionately gone on about buying reptiles responsibly and he had nodded along adamantly without having the faintest idea if he was right. A wild idea crossed his mind that maybe there was a chance, that he had made a good impression in spite of himself. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he responded.

‘Sure!’

‘Free this Friday?’

Aziraphale clutched his phone in both hands. He had half expected the conversation to end there, he didn’t realize they would be making these theoretical plans to hang out right now.

‘My classes get out at 4:00 that day. Does that work?’

He felt like a little pulse of electricity ran through him every time he hit send. Every time he got closer to seeing Crowley again elicited a strange thrill in him. It was actually embarrassing to think about, he felt like a character in a teen drama texting their crush. He wondered if that’s exactly what he was feeling, if he actually did have a crush on Crowley. He certainly thought he was attractive, but he was sure anyone with working eyes shared that opinion. Maybe those feelings were just stemming from the fact that wasn’t used to being kissed like that. The only other person he had actually kissed was his girlfriend that he met in youth group when he was fifteen; and those clumsy adolescent attempts at kissing were far from memorable. Not like last night. No, that was the kind of kiss you read about. Skillful, tender, spontaneous, the kind shared by protagonists in the heat of the moment that created a deep longing, romantic tension for the rest of the book.

His phone buzzed with Crowley’s reply and he was snapped out of his thoughts.

‘Yeah that works, we should get food. Meet you outside of the library at 5:00?’

Whatever he was feeling, he had to remind himself that Crowley probably did not feel the same way. They were going to hang out as friends. He had kissed him in a drunken stupor as a cheeky joke, and now he wanted to be friends. He should let himself be satisfied with that.

‘Yeah! See you then!’

The next few days passed and Aziraphale’s life almost went back to normal. He went to class, he spoke with his professors, he did his homework, he read and caught up on Netflix in the evenings. Though throughout all these very mundane interactions, that little spark of electricity still buzzed through him every now and again. Whether it was when he opened up Instagram and saw Crowley had liked one of his photos, or when he heard people discussing their weekends plans, or even when he passed by someone on the street with red hair. These little reminders caused rushes of excitement to jolt through him throughout the week so that when Friday finally came, he was all aglow.

In the time between when his classes ended on Friday and when he was supposed to meet Crowley, Aziraphale sat in the library trying and failing to read even one paragraph of the book he had brought for the entire hour. His eyes saw the words but his mind was at full capacity and could not, under any circumstances, let them in. All he could do was wonder where they were going to go and what they might talk about. His brain was so full, apparently, that it had also forsaken watching the clock.

“Hey Angel,”

Aziraphale practically jumped out of his seat, startled by the sudden appearance of a voice directly behind him. 

“Ah! Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale laughed in an awkward, high-pitched way that made him cringe internally. “I thought we were meeting outside?”

“We were but when I walked up I saw you through the window and you seemed a little preoccupied,” Crowley pointed at the book on the table. He was visibly holding back a laugh. At least he had the decency to hold it back instead of outright laughing at the way Aziraphale had jumped out of his skin at being barely startled. He appreciated the effort. 

“Yes, it’s uh, well it’s a very engaging story,” Aziraphale lied with a very rapid nod of his head. He couldn’t even remember the title right now.

Not with Crowley standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of those much too tight jeans. He was also wearing dark red, shirt covered by a black denim jacket with a few patches on it that seemed to be the logos of bands. If you had put him on his own album cover he wouldn’t have looked out of place in the slightest. Suddenly Aziraphale had wished he had put more thought into his own clothing. He wasn’t normally very style conscious. He didn’t like to look sloppy, but he also like to be comfortable. He glanced down at his tan pants and striped jumper, feeling like he looked incredibly drab next to Crowley.

“Are you ready to go?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale was pulled back to the present moment. He nodded eagerly and they began to walk.

His nerves eased as they started talking. Just as they had done at the party. Something about talking to Crowley felt so natural. The two of them bounced from topic to topic with the deft accuracy of old of friends despite having only just met each other. It was like they could anticipate where each other’s tangents were going and readily jumped on each time the conversation took a turn. Even when one interrupted the other, which was often, it felt more like a playful interlude than an act of rudeness.

By the time they walked into the Nandos a few blocks from their university Aziraphale was animatedly complaining about his professor’s taste in poetry and Crowley was casually throwing out insults about the man despite having never met him. Once they gotten themselves a table, Crowley shrugged off his jacket. This revealed two things; first, that Crowley’s t-shirt had no sleeves and second, that he had an intricate red and black tattoo of a writhing snake on the inside of his upper arm.

Aziraphale looked at intently from across the table. “I like your tattoo,” He said with a smile, gesturing at it. “You really do like snakes, hmm?”

“Yeah, I’ve just always felt like they were kind of my… well like my symbol, or something,” Crowley explained, mumbling the last part uncertainly. “People think of them as being deceitful and dangerous,"

“Wily,” Aziraphale provided helpfully, making Crowley laugh and point his finger in agreement.

“Yeah, but I think of them more of being very clever, and adaptable. Like with how they shed their skin when they grow, reinvention and all that,”

Aziraphale hadn’t expected such a thoughtful explanation, it was almost poetic. He really just thought Crowley liked the animal a lot. He admired the level of thought Crowley had put into it.

“Snakes can also be a symbol of healing,” He decided to chime in. Crowley looked at him with fascination and he felt that electric buzz run through him again, his cheeks going a tinge pink. “The Rod of Asclepius is a really common symbol in the medical field. It’s a wooden staff with a snake wrapped around it carried by the Greek god of healing,” He explained, shifting into an almost professorial tone. “It’s also sometimes used as a symbol for Raphael the archangel of healing…”

Crowley’s eyes lit up with recognition at that. “You’ve… said something about that before, haven’t you? What was it… I definitely remember you saying that name before,” He said with an apologetic smile as he seemed to struggle to parse out the memories from the other night.

“Yes, when I first introduced myself I told you my name means ‘of Raphael’,” Aziraphale said helpfully with a shy chuckle. Crowley slapped his hand on the table as it visibly clicked for him.

“Yes! That was it! Your dad’s a doctor so he named you after the healing angel,” Crowley remembered emphatically. He grinned across the table at Aziraphale in a way that made his heart skip a beat. “Looks like you and I have a connection, huh?”


	4. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale start spending more time together and make a mutually beneficial deal.

Crowley was suffering. 

The day had been going so well so far. When he had arrived to pick up Aziraphale from the library, he had been deeply immersed in a book so that when Crowley spoke he had startled in possibly the most adorable way he had ever seen. From there they had been having a pretty great set of conversations. Aziraphale had even been interested in the meaning behind his tattoo and added some really interesting interpretation of his own. 

But now he was suffering. 

Because instead of ordering the ‘hot’ sauce like he normally would, he had decided to try the ‘x-tra hot’. This decision was made specifically after seeing Aziraphale had only gone for the ‘mango lime’ flavor, one of the mildest. He was rewarded with an impressed look, a laugh, and an “I could never,” from his companion, which was exactly the reaction he had wanted. But he now realized that was in no way worth the pain he was experiencing. He was trying to focus on the theater with great student discounts Aziraphale was recommending him, but his lips were starting to go numb from the intense burning sensation in his mouth. He tried blowing a cool stream of air out to soothe them but it was to no avail. 

He may have been trying his hardest to hide it, but he was still was genuinely stunned Aziraphale hadn’t noticed his struggle by now. His face was red and he could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead. Hastily, he wiped at his brow with a napkin. It was when the tears started to involuntarily flood his eyes that finally the enthusiastically orating man across the table took notice. 

“Crowley? Are you alright? Oh lord, you’re crying,” Aziraphale’s voice was frantic and concerned. 

“Really? I didn’t know,” Crowley croaked out hoarsely, the burning having reached his throat.

“Well what’s wrong?” He asked in bewilderment. 

Crowley took in a sharp breath, reluctant to admit his own hubris. “… sauce is a lot spicier than I remember it…” He finally coughed out in shame. 

“Oh good lord,” Aziraphale huffed out. Any other person would probably laugh or look smug, but he just seemed very worried. “Well take a drink then for goodness sake! Don’t just sit there in pain!” Crowley had been so focused on not showing he was in pain that he had completely forgotten about his soda. He chugged some of it and swished it around his mouth, the bubbles helping to scrub away some of the spice. So not only did he look like an idiot for ordering something too spicy, but now he was too stupid to even wash it down. Surely, he thought, Aziraphale must just be utterly wooed right now. 

Then Aziraphale did something to surprise him. “Don’t touch your eyes,” He said. “You’ve still got some of the oil on your fingers. Here,” He stood up and walked to the other side of the table, standing over Crowley. Then he gently dabbed at the tears under his eyes and streaking down his cheeks with a napkin. The touch was so careful and precise, Crowley found himself holding his breath as if to keep from messing up the delicate procedure. “Really Crowley,” Aziraphale said in a tone that was both soft and scolding. “If you didn’t know you could handle it, you shouldn’t have gotten it. Now all that perfectly good food is going to go to waste,” It didn’t seem like the time to say so but frankly, he didn’t care. Whatever he had thought about the pain not being worth it had exited his mind, and he would have happily done the same thing all over again to hear that stern tone and feel that gentle hand. 

When he had spotted Aziraphale at the party he had thought he was cute, in a nerdy sort of way. When Aziraphale had admitted to pickpocketing all the party guests to keep them safe, he was smitten. There was something about the blonde that just absolutely fascinated him. He was responsible, but deceitful. He kept to himself, but could rant passionately if given the chance. He could scold you and make you feel incredibly taken care of at exactly the same time. He didn’t make any sense and Crowley was transfixed by that.

Thankfully, Aziraphale did not appear to be completely put off by how stupid he had been in the restaurant, since when Crowley subtly suggested that he should give him his number, he cheerfully agreed.

Crowley didn’t study much. He was smart enough that he could pull passing grades in his classes while only throwing in the occasional all-nighter of cramming. It wasn’t like he cared much about his degree. He wasn’t even interested in business. The only reason he had gone to University in the first place was because his parents had forced him. After his cousin Bea had been promoted to head of the family company by his grandad, they were determined to have him go to school and get a business degree so that he would be next in line for a spot on the board of directors. He could not give less of a shit about the company, or the possibility of him working there; but they had threatened to kick him out and cut him off, so he played along and sent emails to his mom once a month lying about his grades. As long as he wasn’t flunking out, they didn’t even bother to follow up.

However, since him and Aziraphale had begun to hang out, he had become much more studious. At least, in appearances. He was now spending time in the library almost every day. Whether he went to class beforehand or not. 

This phenomenon started with a simple text. His phone lit up with the contact name ‘Angel’ and the message read ‘I have an hour and a half between my classes, want to study together in the library?’ followed by a smiley face. Within ten minutes he had gotten out of bed, gotten dressed and was walking out the door as he sent a reply. 

‘Yeah I’m just getting out of class, I’ll meet you there’

That was how it started. Then as they learned each other’s schedules, or at least Crowley learned Aziraphale’s schedule and made up his own based on which classes didn’t have mandatory attendance, they began meeting there every day at certain times. Mostly it went that Aziraphale studiously worked on whatever homework he had for the day, and Crowley pretended to do the same while mostly just messing around on his laptop. Regardless, they both enjoyed the company. 

On one rare occasion Crowley had actually brought work to do, and he was miserable about it. He had to write an essay for his ethics class and he could not half-ass it if he wanted to stay afloat in that class. He glowered at his laptop screen, getting the attention of his study partner. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, closing the textbook he had been working in. 

“I’m a rubbish writer,” Crowley grumbled. “I know I’m going to bust my ass writing this paper and I’m probably not even going to get that good a grade on it,” He complained. “I might as well just spare myself the time and go to one of those websites where you can pay to get it done for you,”

Aziraphale looked absolutely appalled by that idea. “You can’t do that!” He exclaimed in horror. Crowley glared and motioned for him to quiet down as several people looked over at them. “Crowley you will most certainly get caught. Those websites plagiarize all the time, your teacher will run your essay through the antiplagiarism software and you’ll get caught,” He explained, thankfully lowering his voice to a frantic whisper. 

“Well then should I just not do it and pray my grade on the exam is enough to save me?” Crowley said dryly, partially just because he knew it would rile Aziraphale up. 

“No! Absolutely not!” Aziraphale huffed in frustration. “Why don’t you just let me help you with it?” That made Crowley’s brain light up with inspiration. 

“Oooor…” He began with his most convincing grin. 

“No. Literally no to whatever you are about to say,” He replied, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“You could just write it for me?” He continued anyway in a sing-song type of voice. He leaned over to try and catch Aziraphale’s eye, but he kept turning his head so that Crowley was laying across his lap by the time he finally forced him to look at him. “Please Angel? You are so much better at writing than I am,” 

“When have you ever read my writing?”

“Well you always read parts of them to me when you’re editing and those parts sound really good!” Crowley answered defensively. “And you always get amazing grades when your papers get handed back! You could really give me the boost I need in this class. Don’t think of it as cheating, think of it as helping your good friend not have to retake the most boring ethics class in the world,” He pleaded, purposely acting up the desperation in his voice. “And I would owe you a massive favor,”

“Nothing you could offer me could convince me to cheat!” He huffed in a very self-righteous way. Crowley raised a single eyebrow, accepting the challenge. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing!”

“What about tickets to that exclusive showing of that artsy version of hamlet with that actor you like so much?” The English major had been talking about it ever since the casting was announced. It was some famous stage actor who had been touring on Broadway but now wanted to return to his Shakespearean roots for a limited time only so apparently that made the show very exclusive. 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, but he tightened his jaw with resolve. “You’re bluffing, that show has been sold out for weeks,”

“It still is, but I happen to have a friend in the ticket office who managed to reserve a few tickets that he planned to sell for a higher price. Lucky for me, he owes me more than a few favors, so I could definitely convince him to part with one,” Crowley explained, watching the anguished expression on his friend’s face as he knew he was trying his hardest to resist. “I’ll even go with you! You’re constantly talking about how I should get interested in literature. Maybe this performance will inspire me to read Shakespeare,” That addition to the deal was more self serving. He didn’t particularly want to see Hamlet, but an evening out with Aziraphale wasn’t something he’d pass up on.

The emotional journey that was happening on Aziraphale’s face was both riveting and hilarious to watch take place. He tried not to show how much he was enjoying it in his own expression, keeping on his plaintive eyes instead. “Come on Angel, you’re helping a friend and getting the tickets, my paper gets done, and nobody else has to know. Everyone’s happy,” He watched with delight for the moment Aziraphale broke.

“If,” Aziraphale started slowly. Crowley pumped his fist victoriously, mouthing the word ‘yes!’. “If you gave me the essay prompt... I could write you a draft. But that’s all it’ll be! Just a draft for you to reference!” He knew those warning words were just for show, he had learned by now it was physically impossible for Aziraphale to give anything less than his best effort. 

This was proved to him once again when he turned in Aziraphale’s “draft” and got back a near perfect score on it. Now he just had to wait for his turn to fulfill his end of the deal.

When the day of the play finally came, Crowley stood in front of the mirror, carefully braiding the long side of his hair. When he was done he examined it carefully to make sure it looked exactly how he wanted it to. “This is a date... right?” He asked himself in the mirror. He turned and looked at his snake in her tank through the open bathroom door. “Right?!”

It certainly felt like a date. They were seeing a play together, they would both be getting dressed up, he was going to pick up Aziraphale, it seemed pretty textbook romance to him. But he still wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was even interested in him. As nice and sweet as he was, he gave out terrible mixed signals. He always jumped at even the slightest chance to spend time together, but every time Crowley tried to flirt with him he always brushed it off as a joke or rolled his eyes. He never pushed him off when he leaned on him or put his arm around his shoulders, but he never returned the physical affection. He might suspect that he was being led on if he believed Aziraphale was even capable of something like that. 

“There’s no way he won’t think this is a date,” Crowley muttered resolutely as he straightened his jacket. 

“... Right?”


	5. Hamlet: a Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley fulfills his end of the deal and takes Aziraphale to go see Hamlet.

Aziraphale looked himself over in the reflection of a window as he waited for Crowley outside the student housing where he lived. He had really tried to spruce himself up for the event, a play did call for evening wear, after all. He was wearing a blue tweed suit, with a light blue shirt and a tartan bowtie. His short, white-blonde curls were as quaffed as they had ever been and he hand even put on a dash of expensive cologne. There was also a little part of him that didn’t want to be completely outshined by Crowley this time, but that was probably reaching considering how stylishly the redhead dressed on the average day.

He watched the street corner eagerly as electric butterflies flew around his stomach. He didn’t know much about cars, so he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. All he knew was that Crowley absolutely cherished his and that it was some expensive vintage type his grandfather had given him. So, he figured he would know it when he saw it.

Sure enough, when the sleek black Bentley came ripping around the corner at a frankly alarming speed, he knew with absolute certainty that was his ride. It pulled up to the curb with a screech of tires and the window half down. “Call for a cab?” Crowley was looking out through the window at him with that charming grin of his and Aziraphale couldn’t help but grin back. “Get in, Angel, we don’t want to be late,” With that, Aziraphale rushed around to the other side and got in the passenger’s seat.

If asked to describe his friend’s driving in a single word Aziraphale would probably choose “stressful”. Three seconds in and he was already clutching the dashboard and flooring a brake that didn’t exist on his side of the car. If he didn’t have a heart condition before, he was sure he’d be leaving the car with one. If he even got to leave the car at all. “For the love of god man! You’re going to kill somebody!” He shouted but Crowley shrugged off his panic.

“Haven’t killed anybody yet,” He said simply as if he wasn’t going at least twenty over the speed limit. For a second Aziraphale was overtaken with the strong desire to reach over and smack him across the back of the head for playing with their lives like that, but he realized that would only increase the likelihood of them crashing so he kept his hands to himself.

Aziraphale gave a silent prayer of thanks when they finally hit traffic and the absolute madman behind the wheel was forced to slow down. Never in a million years did he think he would ever be so grateful for rush hour. He tried to take a few deep breaths to get his heart back down to a normal pace. He thought perhaps some music might be able to distract him. “Oh, it has a tape deck? This car really is vintage,” He commented, his voice weak as he was still a little breathless from Crowley’s driving. “Do you have any tapes?”

“There’s… one in there,” Crowley muttered in a strangely evasive way. Aziraphale looked at him inquisitively but he, for once, didn’t take his eyes off the road. So, he just shrugged and pressed the play button.

_“I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things,”_ Freddie Mercury’s voice came softly pouring out of the speaker. Aziraphale let out a hint of a laugh, feeling just a touch of color come to his cheeks. The first song to come on would be a love song.

“So… you like Queen?” He asked awkwardly, trying to distract himself from the romantic crooning going on in the background.

“A little sick of it actually,” Crowley said bitterly.

“Oh? Well I’ll put in a different tape…” Aziraphale started to say while pressing the eject button. Nothing happened. He pressed it again and Crowley sighed heavily.

_“Ooh love ooh loverbooooy,”_

“It’s stuck,”

“Yeah it’s stuck,” Crowley snapped slightly, as if defensive of his precious car’s only flaw.

“Ok well we can turn on the radio then,” Another very heavy sigh came from the driver. “Unless that’s broken too?”

_“When I'm not with you, think of me always,”_

“Queen it is then,” Aziraphale said cheekily and bit his lip when Crowley let out a defeated huff.

They pulled up in front of the theater and got out of the car. Crowley handed his keys to a valet, giving the poor man a smoldering glare as he warned him that he had better not scratch his car if he knew what was good for him.

“Oh, do hurry up, Crowley,” Aziraphale admonished him, already waiting impatiently by the doors for him.

“Calm down, it’s not like we’re going to miss the show,” Crowley replied as he sauntered over towards where Aziraphale was stood waiting. He hadn’t really been able to get a good look at him in the car. Just as he expected, Crowley looked stunning. The silver cuff on his ear and rings on his fingers sparkled under the lights of the theater. True to form, he was wearing a black suit. Rather than a traditional plain shirt underneath, though, he had on a floral shirt that had a beautiful mix of reds and purples. It was also unbuttoned much lower than most people would usually wear it, making Aziraphale’s breath catch in his throat a bit. He turned towards the doors quickly to keep himself from staring and held it open for his companion.

“After you,”

They took their seats. Aziraphale wondered what kind of “favors” Crowley’s friend must be paying back to have gotten such a clear view of the stage. They were to the right of center, but not by that much, and they were close enough that there was hardly any obstruction.

“This isn’t one of Shakespeare’s gloomy ones is it?” Crowley asked with a complaining tone. That got several judgmental looks from the patrons around them. Aziraphale half smiled, half cringed apologetically at them.

“If you’re going to have that kind of attitude, why did you come?” He asked in a contemptuous whisper.

“Simple, I thought it’d be pretty sad if you had to go all by yourself,” He replied and gave him a gentle nudge in the arm. Aziraphale couldn’t exactly argue with that logic. Even if he had someone to take besides Crowley, he wasn’t sure he would want to. It only seemed fair, since Crowley was the one who had gotten him the tickets. And his hair looked so lovely braided like that. The idea of taking anyone else almost seemed like a waste.

The lights flickered, warning the attendees they needed to find their seats soon. A few minutes later the theater darkened and the curtain rose.

It was a stunning production. Aziraphale watched with wide, awestruck eyes as the actors emerged in their intricate costumes. Every line delivery, every transition was pitch perfect. The actor cast as Hamlet, who was the reason Aziraphale had wanted to see this production in the first place, had a particularly strong command of the text that was breathtaking to listen to. It was everything he had hoped for it to be and more. He found himself mouthing along some of the words with the actors. Hamlet had always been one of his favorite plays and he knew a couple of the scenes by heart.

At the beginning of Act III, leading up to the queue for the Prince’s most famous monologue, Aziraphale reached over to Crowley to nudge him and let him know this was the big scene. He expected to just pat his knee once, but when he put his hand down blindly, he was met with another hand instead of fabric. Warmth filled his chest and he rested his hand there, too stunned by the feeling of fingers beneath his own to take it away. Then he looked over to the seat next to him and saw that rather than watching the stage, Crowley was staring at him. He wondered if he had just looked when he tapped him, or if his eyes had been lingering there for longer. With all the beauty that was happening on stage, he couldn’t fathom why Crowley was looking at him instead. His heart fluttered for a beat. ‘This is the scene’ he mouthed silently, even with those golden eyes fixated on him like that, he couldn’t help but be excited for this part. Crowley smiled at him, and he smiled back before turning his head to look at the stage again. “To be, or not to be?” He never did remember to move his hand away.

By the play’s end there were a few stray tears rolling down Aziraphale’s face. He was a bit embarrassed at being so emotional in public, but he had just lost himself in what a beautiful rendition of the show it was. He tried to subtly wipe them away but he caught Crowley smirking at him as they excited the theater.

“Don’t give me that look,” He laughed and scrunched his nose up at him. “This just goes to show you how moving it was,”

To his surprise, Crowley didn’t take the very obvious opportunity to make fun of him. Instead he just gently patted Aziraphale on the back and gave him a wide smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” He said in an unusually earnest tone.

“Did you enjoy it?” Aziraphale asked curiously, thinking back to how he had caught Crowley looking at him instead of the stage. “Or was it too ‘gloomy’?” He teased lightly.

“I had a fantastic time,” Crowley replied. “You know somewhere around act four I actually had a really great dream,” There was the Crowley he knew, always quick to throw out a sarcastic comment. He laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm to scold him.

Crowley handed the valet his ticket and they stood under the heating lights to escape the cold of the late autumn night while they waited for him to return. Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley. “Did you actually have a good time, though?” He asked softly. They were standing rather close together. Maybe it was the cold air making him want to huddle in, but he didn’t feel the need to move away. He looked at Crowley hopefully. He would feel quite bad if he had enjoyed himself so much and his friend had been bored the whole time. Crowley looked back into his eyes and for a moment the night they had kissed flashed back into Aziraphale’s mind. That was the last time he had seen these eyes this close, right before they closed and their lips met. He felt his pulse speed up at the memory, waiting with bated breath for his answer.

“I really had a wonderful time,” Crowley replied, his voice equally as quiet. As if, by the very nature of them speaking so closely, they had to whisper. Like two people sharing secrets they don’t want curious ears to hear. “With you,” He added. Aziraphale felt a wave of joy wash over him at that. He couldn’t have asked for a better evening.

“I had a wonderful time with you, too,” He replied. For a moment, just a moment, he was so happy he felt like he could kiss Crowley again. Unconsciously he moved even closer, beginning to close the miniscule distance between them. He felt like the happiness of the moment could sweep both of them up and it wouldn’t matter whether Crowley was out of his league or not. Then the moment passed, and he remembered that Crowley was sober, and that he most certainly was out of his league, and he lost his nerve. Not entirely though. He managed summon the littlest bit of that courage that had almost overtaken him and put his arms around his companion, pulling him into a tight hug. There was a pause where Crowley was stiff with surprise, but then his posture softened. He returned the hug, resting his chin on top of Aziraphale’s head. “Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale muttered into his shoulder and felt the arms around him tighten briefly, giving him a gentle squeeze as if to say ‘You’re welcome’.

“You really are my best friend,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* 3 chapters in less than 24 hours??? That's gotta be a record. If I didn't love writing this so much I'd demand overtime pay.


	6. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley struggles with the idea that Aziraphale may never return his feelings.

_“Oooooh you’re making me live now honey,”_

Crowley was gripping the wheel with white knuckles. The Bentley shot down the motorway at nearly a hundred miles an hour, weaving in and out of cars dangerously. At least, at this time of night, it wasn’t as packed as it usually was. It was nearly two in the morning by then, he’d been out driving since he dropped Aziraphale off at midnight. It hadn’t been intentional. He had started driving towards his flat then he got lost his thoughts and just kept going.

_“Oh, you're the first one, when things turn out bad,”_

_How had it all gone wrong?_ He wondered desperately, replaying the night in his mind. It seemed like the perfect date from the start. Aziraphale had been so adorably excited for the show. The way his pale blue eyes had lit up when Crowley came to pick him up, the blue suit he’d picked making them seem to pop even more than usual. They had chatted and teased each other in the car like they always did, but they were bantering over top of a love song for goodness’ sake. Then he had been utterly transfixed by the play itself, Crowley had watched him the whole time, the way he gazed at the actors mouthing the words with something like reverence. And when he reached over and touched Crowley’s hand during the third act, he had thought for sure, that was it. That would be the moment when Aziraphale finally recognized the connection between them, the spark.

_“Oh, oh, you're my best friend. Oh, you make me live. Oh, you're my best friend,”_

Crowley practically smashed the off button for the speaker, the car falling into dead silence save for the hum of the engine and his heavy, frustrated breathing.

Two little words and it had all come crashing down. _“You really are my best friend,”_ Aziraphale’s voice echoed in his mind. He had sworn, under those warm, yellow lights, that Aziraphale had been leaning in for a kiss. They were looking right into each other’s eyes and he had seen him start to lean in. But he had gone for a hug instead, which was fine. It would have been fine. Crowley didn’t mind taking things slowly. Then he said those two words and Crowley had felt them drive a wedge into his heart, cracking it along the seams. _“… best friend,”_

“Who holds hands for three whole acts of a play and doesn’t realize they’re on a FUCKING DATE?!”He screamed at the road in front of him. “Rrgh!” He roared and slammed his hand on the steering wheel, blasting the horn even though there wasn’t anyone in front of him to hear it.

No one could be that dense. Aziraphale had to be messing with him, intentionally playing with his feelings. He didn’t know why he would do such a thing, but there was absolutely no way that someone could look at tonight and not realize Crowley was desperately in love. Weeks of flirting, playful teasing, gentle touches, and he really wanted Crowley to believe he hadn’t picked up on any of it. That they were just “best friends”. No one was that oblivious, even if he was straight, which he was almost sure Aziraphale was not. Almost.

Whatever he was, he was wasting Crowley’s time. The best thing to do, he decided, would be to just forget about him. Fuck off, out of Aziraphale’s life and let him find someone else to play mind games with. Crowley could feel his already broken heart starting to ache along its fracture lines at the idea of never seeing that wholesome, bright-eyed smile again. The kind Aziraphale got when he put the first bite of something really delicious in his mouth and had to finish chewing so he could tell Crowley how good it was. _No, stop it. You’re done._ Crowley yelled at himself internally. None of that was worth all this confusion. It just wasn’t.

Eventually, around half three, he wandered into his flat, craving a distraction. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a handle of vodka from the cabinet, and took a swig. It burned terribly. It was the kind of vodka only university students bought; incredibly cheap and only fit to be mixed with the most sugar filled chasers if you wanted to get it down your throat. He coughed and choked, but immediately went back for another shot. He felt the familiar head rush of too much alcohol too quickly and was momentarily satisfied. Then he clumsily pulled off his jacket and his shirt, abandoning them on the floor before falling into bed.

He heard Aziraphale’s voice still echoing in the back of his skull, he needed more distraction. His eyes darted to his phone. What he needed was a hookup. No feelings, no mind games, just someone to mess around with. A warm body to grind up against and fill his head with lust instead of longing. He went to the Appstore and downloaded Grindr. Most dating apps ceased to be dating apps after one in the morning, nobody in their right mind was looking for genuine connection at this hour. You don’t find your soulmate on tinder at three am. You find people who are drunk, high, and horny out of their minds wanting to bang until they couldn’t see straight and then forget about it when the sun came up. Considering Grindr was already notorious for being mostly a hookup app, he knew he could find what he was looking for fairly easily.

Sure enough, less than ten minutes later he was getting some meaningless small talk out of the way with a picture of a shirtless torso. They said hello, sent a few scandalous pictures back and forth and were getting ready to meet up. Right as the torso had sent him his address, a notification popped up for Instagram and Crowley clicked it by accident. He was about to click back to Grindr when he saw that someone had tagged him from earlier. It must have been when he was driving because the notification was from a few hours ago. It was Aziraphale. He had posted a picture of his face with the bottom half obscured by the playbill for Hamlet. Even with his mouth covered, you could tell how wide he was smiling, just by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. ‘Just had the best night of my life!!!!! Thanks @AnthonyJanthony!’

As his eyes fell on the caption, he felt all that anger he had been holding on to melt away. He couldn’t believe he had really thought Aziraphale was intentionally leading him on. That wasn’t the sweet, shy, kind person he knew. Aziraphale’s morality may be strange, and even questionable at times, but he would never try to hurt someone’s feelings for fun. Especially not a friend. He sighed heavily, letting his phone slip out of his hand and on to the bed.

It felt like he was at an impasse. He couldn’t let Aziraphale slip away, but he couldn’t let himself keep holding out for something that might never happen. If he wanted to keep this shining light in his life, he would have to make a change. He would have to learn to put his own feelings aside and for the sake of the friendship, even if it stung a little. Making him happy as a friend would have to be enough. He would learn to let it be enough. To see that smile, on his Angel, it could be enough.

When he saw Aziraphale in the library next time, he plastered on a charming grin and tried to keep things to business as usual. They continued to see each other almost every day, and almost every day Crowley put another bandage over the cracks in his heart, shielding it from any more damage.

Their new-found arrangement stayed in place. That was helpful, having an explicit reason to see Aziraphale made it easier to fool himself into thinking there wasn’t any deeper feelings involved. Aziraphale continued to write “drafts” and “summaries” of Crowley’s work and in return Crowley used his vast array of contacts to get him more tickets to plays, art galleries, restaurant openings. Being from a wealthy, powerful family and liking to party meant that he had an “in” to almost every venue in London. Crowley’s grades took a sharp turn upwards and Aziraphale seemed happy.

He guessed, he couldn’t ask for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but I just really wanted to keep it focussed on the emotions rather than throwing in a random event to make it longer that might detract from them.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it anyway!


	7. Brownies from Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale notices the dynamic between him and Crowley has changed. In an attempt to get their old friendship back, he goes to a party where Crowley will be.

Something changed after Hamlet. At first, Aziraphale couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he definitely noticed a difference in the way he and Crowley interacted. They were still seeing each other on a regular basis, still getting lunch together between classes, he was still doing a significant amount of Crowley’s homework. So theoretically, not much had actually changed. However, something about the interactions just felt different. It was like wearing a shirt that had shrunk in the wash, but not enough for you to throw it out. It was still the same shirt and it was still functional, but it wasn’t nearly as comfortable. After a couple weeks of it nagging in his mind, he figured it out.

Crowley had stopped touching him. From the second they met, Crowley had always been very physical; leaning on him as they walked or sat, grabbing his sleeve when he was excited about something, slinging his arm around his shoulders when he told a joke. This had been very jarring at first. Aziraphale didn’t come from a very physically affectionate family, and considering his feelings towards Crowley, it made him a bit uncomfortable. Though eventually he realized that was just how Crowley interacted with people, and he got used to it.

Now, though, Crowley was quite literally keeping him at arm’s length. In the library he chose to sit across from him instead of next to him. When they walked together, he kept his hands in his pockets to keep from accidentally brushing against him. An invisible wall had risen between them and Aziraphale had no idea why. He worried that maybe he had done something wrong. Perhaps, when he had touched Crowley’s hand for too long at the play it had crossed a line, made him feel the need to establish boundaries. He was too afraid to ask because he feared if he had done something wrong, bringing it up would only make Crowley more upset with him. He would just have to respect Crowley’s need for distance and hope he forgave him for whatever he’d done.

Even though he knew that was the best course of action, he had to admit to himself, he missed the old Crowley. It was selfish, but he had secretly started to cherish those little touches. They made him feel like Crowley really cared about him, like they were close enough as friends to eschew personal space. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t also admit that all that leaning and grabbing had been adding fuel to his crush on Crowley, though.

One afternoon when they were supposed to meet, Crowley had beaten him to the library. He was sat at their usual table, looking at his laptop. The logical part of his mind told him to respect these new boundaries his friend had established, the emotional part of his mind was trying to convince him that because they never actually talked about it, it was actually just all in his head. The emotional part of his mind could be very convincing. He pulled out the chair next to Crowley and sat beside him instead of across. The redhead seemed slightly startled at his arrival but, to Aziraphale’s delight, didn’t move away.

“Hello Crowley,”

“Hey Aziraphale,”

They worked quietly for a few minutes and Aziraphale felt like he was buzzing with nervous energy. Crowley might not have moved away, but the air around the two of them was tense and unusually quiet. Or maybe he was imagining that. Either way, he couldn’t take it for very long. 

“S-so, um,” Aziraphale cleared his throat, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them. “There’s this sushi restaurant I really like and I wanted to go get dinner there this Saturday. I was wondering if you’d like to come with? It’s been a while since we hung out on a weekend… we could make an evening of it and-”

“Can’t this Saturday,” Crowley had cut him off. He was used to the way they tended to interrupt each other, but this felt much ruder than usual.

“Oh…” Aziraphale deflated, looking down at his notebook sadly. “Can… I ask what you’re up to then?”

“I’m going to a party,” Crowley explained in a disinterested voice without looking up from his laptop.

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. He had an idea, but he was debating over whether he should go for it or not. “Can I come?” Crowley finally looked up at him, looking surprised. That seemed like a victory, his hopes raised up a little.

“You don’t even like parties,” Crowley commented, sounding puzzled and maybe even a touch suspicious.

“That’s not true,” Aziraphale replied with a nervous laugh, even though it was. “We met at a party remember? And this time I won’t have to drive so maybe I’ll enjoy myself a bit more,”

Crowley seemed to be mulling this over. Aziraphale could see on his face that he was trying to decode what he was up to. He must have hit a dead end though because after a while he just shrugged and nodded. “Sure, I’ll give you the details,” Aziraphale was cheering in his head. This felt like a large step in the right direction.

That Saturday Aziraphale showed up on the doorstep of the house Crowley had given him the address to. He could already hear the thumping music from outside. His gut reaction was to turn around and wait for the next bus back home. He had come here for a reason, though, he reminded himself. He was trying to reconnect with his best friend on his terms. If loud music and crowded living rooms were his terms, then so be it. He took a deep breath and walked inside. 

He wandered through the maze of unfamiliar faces, trying and failing not to bump into anyone. He looked for Crowley among those drinking in the kitchen and the mass of people dancing in the main room but didn’t see him. He was so tall, he wouldn’t have been hard to miss. It was only when he waded across the impromptu dance floor that he spotted that flash of scarlet hair draped over the side of a couch. Crowley was lying there with a grin on his face, animatedly telling a story with his hands to a few people standing and sitting nearby. He looked like he was in his element, limbs all over the place, capturing the attention of those around him. He looked like himself. Aziraphale smiled with relief and dashed over. Crowley was too caught up in his story that he didn’t see him at first, when he did notice him, it did not get the reaction Aziraphale had hoped for.

“Oh, hey you actually came, cool,” That, and a jerk of Crowley’s head in recognition was all he got before Crowley went right back to talking to the people around him. It was disheartening to say the least. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting exactly. Maybe that Crowley would make a space for him on the couch, or offer him a drink. At the very least, introduce him to his other friends. The reaction, or lack thereof, that he had gotten instead felt like a punch in the stomach. There was no denying it now, Crowley was definitely upset with him. He had done something wrong, made it worse by trying to push his boundaries, and now Crowley didn’t even want to give him the time of day.

Defeated, he slipped away from the circle orbiting his friend. If he could even still call him that. He considered just going home but then he would have come all the way here and pushed himself for nothing. He decided he would at least have one drink. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic cup full of some sort of mixed soda and liquor concoction. He saw some people going down a set of stairs to the basement of the house and wondered if it was quieter down there. Deciding it couldn’t make his night any worse if it wasn’t, he followed them down the stairs to go check.

In the basement people were sitting around on couches, passing a water pipe around. Aziraphale thought it smelled awful, but at least it was indeed quieter, and he couldn’t see Crowley anymore. This seemed like the lesser of two evils. He went and sat on a chair in the corner. A man sitting on the couch nearest to him looked over and stared at him for a bit. He had bloodshot eyes and scraggly hair that was falling in his face. Aziraphale sipped his drink uncomfortably.

“Oi,” The man said and jutted his chin at Aziraphale to get his attention. “I’ve seen you before… You are always hanging around with Crowley, right? At school, I mean,” He asked. Aziraphale winced and shrugged.

“Well… yeah I guess so,”

“You two shagging?” He said with a nasty, mocking grin. This got a laugh from the guy sitting next to him. Aziraphale looked absolutely mortified, which only seemed to make the both of them laugh harder. He wanted to disappear. He got up and started to leaved.

“Oh, come on then, I was only joking,” The man said, still laughing at him.

“Well I didn’t find it very funny!” Aziraphale snapped. He was reaching his limit by this point. After the night he had, he was not in the mood to put up with rude strangers making fun of him.

“Did you two break up? S’that why you’re not with him now?”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Aziraphale raised his voice, almost shouting. He was seething, red in the face and clenching his fists at his side.

The aggressive stranger looked like he was about to make another snide comment. “Careful, Hastur,” The man next to him stopped him from saying anything, putting his hands out in a placating gesture. “Don’t want to start a fight,” It sounded like this new person might be mocking him too, but it was subtle and Aziraphale couldn’t quite tell. “How about a peace offering?” He added and lifted the water pipe he was holding, offering it to Aziraphale. He shook his head and grimaced at it.

“I don’t smoke,” He told him tersely.

“Then how about a brownie?” Hastur chimed in again, gesturing to a plate of brownies on the table. They seemed oddly out of place in this setting. “Ligur’s mum made them fresh this morning,” He added, nodding at his friend. It seemed like he was trying to hold back laughter. Something about the way he spoke and his odd, high pitched, mocking laugh made Aziraphale not want to trust him, but the brownies did look normal and he was hungry since he’d been too nervous to each much for dinner. He looked around and saw a few other people were eating them, so there couldn’t be anything terribly wrong with them. He shrugged awkwardly and then cautiously took one. It tasted a little odd, but he ate the whole thing anyway, thinking it was just some trendy ingredient like avocado or something. Then he sat back down to finish his drink.

A while passed and he started to feel very strange.


	8. A Rollercoaster Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has to take care of a very very high Aziraphale.

“They’re smoking in the basement, you wanna go down there?”

“Oh, yeah that sounds good,” Crowley clambered to his feet from the couch and followed Eve to the basement. The party had been going pretty well so far. He felt slightly bad for being so cold to Aziraphale but he had really wanted a break from having to mask his feelings for him. It took so much energy to simultaneously be his friend and keep his distance, he just wanted to have a good time tonight. Forget himself for a while. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have even told him about the party. It wasn’t really fair to have invited him and then brush him off, but the blonde had just seemed so eager that he couldn’t say no to him. He hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a few hours, so he just assumed he had gotten bored and gone home early. That was probably for the best, Crowley thought.

“Crowley!” When he walked through the door he was greeted by someone calling out his name excitedly. Before he even spotted him, he recognized Aziraphale’s voice. He tensed up, but the anxiety he felt was replaced with confusion as he watched his friend stumble and sway walking over to him. _Is he drunk?_ Crowley wondered. He was giggling like mad and tripped over his own feet as he walked up to Crowley. Instinctively, Crowley put his arms out and helped to break his fall. Aziraphale gripped on to them tightly.

“So-aha! Sorry!” He said, barely able to get the word out with how much he was laughing to himself. He had a hazy, almost sleepy look. His eyes were red. _Oh my god, is he high?_

“Are… you ok, Angel?” Crowley asked slowly, still supporting him with his arms as Aziraphale rocked on the balls of his feet.

“I’m fantastic!” Aziraphale chirped. “Your friends,” He waved his hand vaguely over at the couch behind him. “They were talking to me and then they offered me a brownie,” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell them but it tasted really, really bad actually, I think his mum messed them up,” He raised his voice to a normal volume again. “And I think I’m really drunk but I only had one drink,” He burst out laughing after he finished talking, as if he had just told the funniest joke he ever heard.

Crowley looked over towards where Aziraphale had gestured when he mentioned his friends and spotted Hastur and Ligur snickering cruelly. Anger started to coil in his chest when he realized that Aziraphale wasn’t in this state on accident. He tried to stay calm while he dealt with the mess of giggles still hanging off his arms. “Ok, Angel, why don’t you just sit back down,” He said softly, leading him towards an empty seat. Aziraphale plopped into it but still hadn’t let go of Crowley. He tried to peel his hands off.

“No, wait,” Aziraphale pouted, but he was still fighting back laughter. “No wait, don’t leave, Crowley,”

“I’m not leaving,” He said in a soothing tone, trying to give him his best reassuring smile. “I just need to go talk to my friends for a second and then I’ll be right back,” This seemed to appease him, he smiled and nodded and finally let go of Crowley.

Crowley whipped around and walked towards the couch, glaring daggers at the two of them as he approached. “How much was in those?” He demanded in a low hiss, not wanting to speak too loudly and alarm Aziraphale.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hastur sneered at him.

Crowley leaned down abruptly to get in Hastur’s face. “You tell me how much he ate or I swear I will kick your sorry, stoned ass right here,” He threatened.

“S’not our fault your boyfriend can’t handle his shit,” Ligur chimed in and Crowley snapped. He smacked Ligur hard across the face. Hastur started to get up and lunge at him but Crowley shoved him back.

“You can’t just fucking drug people like that! I’ll call the cops!” At the mention of cops, people in the room began to get up and get involved, apparently roused to help by the idea that the party might get shut down. Crowley and Hastur were spitting insults at each other and people were getting in between them to stop a fight from breaking out. Hastur ended up being pushed out of the room by some helpful bystanders and Ligur followed after him, apparently not wanting a fight either. Crowley’s blood was boiling but when his eyes landed on Aziraphale looking dazed in the corner he forced himself to take a deep breath and try to get it together.

“Come on,” He said as he walked back over to him, offering a hand to help him up. “Let’s get you home,” Getting Aziraphale up the stairs was an ordeal. He was wobbling like a baby deer and had to lean on Crowley to keep him up almost the whole way. On top of that, he was still giggling.

“What is so funny?” Crowley huffed when they finally reached the top of the stairs and then made their way out the door.

“It feels like I’m being tickled!” He exclaimed cheerfully. “Like people are poking me right here!” He demonstrated by poking his fingers into Crowley’s ribs a few times, forcing a laugh out of him.

“Ah! Ok, alright, I get it,” Crowley grabbed his hands to stop him. They had finally reached the Bentley just a little way down the street from the party. Aziraphale clung to him, arms around his waist. “Angel, you have to let go of me, I have to drive,” He said with a sigh. Aziraphale rested his chin on his chest and looked up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

“Kiss me,”

_“What?!”_ Crowley was floored. He knew Aziraphale was high but that was absolutely the last thing he expected.

“The last time! The last time we were at a party you kissed me!” Aziraphale huffed, sounding like a frustrated child demanding a treat. “I want you to do it again!” He reached up and cupped Crowley’s cheek. He could feel his face heating up and his pulse quicken. All that careful work he’d done to tamp down his feelings for his friend was being ripped away. A flood of longing mixed with anger was swelling up inside him. He knew he couldn’t really blame Aziraphale when he was this messed up, but it still felt like he was pouring salt into wounds that hadn’t fully healed.

“Wh-why do you want that?” Crowley sputtered, trying not to let the pain show through in his voice. Aziraphale had now put his arm behind Crowley’s neck, pressing their bodies flush. He was trying to get in close to his face, Crowley leaned his head back so he couldn’t reach. Aziraphale, apparently, wouldn’t give up so easily. He started placing little kisses on what he could reach, which was Crowley’s neck. That made him shiver and slowly the anger and the pain in his mind were being edged out by desire.

“It’ll feel good,” Aziraphale cooed, his hot breath fanning out over the tender skin of Crowley’s throat. “Pleeease?”

Crowley had to physically shake his head to snap himself out of it. No matter how good Aziraphale’s lips felt on his skin, letting this go any further would not end well. He tried to pry his arms off of him, but he gripped on tightly. He was practically hanging from him like a koala in a tree.

“No, now get in the car,” He said sternly.

“Not until you kiss me!” Aziraphale replied stubbornly. He let out a huff of air and thought for a second. He leaned in and gave Aziraphale a chaste kiss on the lips. Then, as soon as he felt Aziraphale’s grip relax, he slipped out of his arms, causing him to stumble. Quickly, he opened the passenger side and unceremoniously shoved Aziraphale in.

“That wasn’t fair!” Aziraphale complained as Crowley got in the driver’s seat. He tried to reach for him, scooting across the front seat of the Bentley to try and get close to Crowley again.

“No! We are keeping our hands to ourselves so I can drive!” He insisted. He was holding out one arm to push Aziraphale back and using the other to frantically put the key in the ignition. He somehow managed to start the car in spite of the obstacles. Thankfully, the motion seemed to make Aziraphale dizzy so he had to sit back and keep to his side. This moment of relief was short lived though.

“Ah!” Aziraphale suddenly let out a cry of panic.

“What?! What is it now?” Crowley asked agitatedly.

“Why is the car going up and down like that?!”

“Doing what?!”

“I feel like I’m on a roller coaster!”

“Angel I promise you I am literally driving slower than I have in my entire life,” Crowley tried to reassure him but it was useless. Aziraphale was panting and covering his eyes in fear. Every few minutes he would cry out again for no apparent reason. Crowley may have only lived ten minutes away but it was a long, long ride home.

The elevator up to his flat was somehow worse. Aziraphale was pale and sweating, looking like he might pass out at any moment. Crowley watched the floors change anxiously, hoping that they could at least make it back to his place first. He hadn’t taken him back to his own student housing because he wasn’t sure Aziraphale could handle being left alone in such a state. Thankfully they made it to his floor. They walked through the door with one of Aziraphale’s arms slung around Crowley’s shoulders for support.

“Cr… Crowley,” Crowley looked over and saw Aziraphale with a hand on his stomach, clenching his lips together. He instantly recognized the expression and frantically dragged him to the bathroom. He moved fast enough and was able to get Aziraphale in front of the toilet before he started throwing up. Crowley dropped down next to him on the bathroom floor, exhausted. He felt bad for Aziraphale as he listened to him retching. He had been there and he knew however tired he was, his friend was worse off. He patted him on the back in a show of solidarity.

When it finally seemed like his stomach was empty, Crowley helped him to his feet. He took a washcloth, ran it under the sink, and cleaned off his mouth for him. Then he took his hand and led him to the kitchen, handing him a glass of water and waiting patiently for him to drink the whole thing. Finally, he led him back to the bedroom. Aziraphale sat on the bed as Crowley undid his shoes for him and took them off. Then he lifted his arms and Crowley helped take off his shirt. After it was all said and done he collapsed back into the bed and shuffled his way to the middle. Crowley watched him settle in for a moment then turned to leave.

“Don’t go…” Aziraphale’s voice was soft and weak. Crowley sighed heavily.

“Angel I’m just going to go sleep on the cou-”

“Just sit with me… until I fall asleep?” He sounded so pitiful. Even from across the room, Crowley could see he hadn’t fully come down yet. He was still panting and sweating. He imagined he could probably still feel that phantom motion from the car. He couldn’t leave him like that. So, he walked over and sat on the bed with a few pillows to prop up his back. Aziraphale had his eyes shut tightly but slowly, cautiously he reached out a shaking hand in his direction. Crowley took it and gave it a comforting squeeze. He sat there, a stable presence for Aziraphale to cling to. His buoy in a violent sea. That was where he stayed, all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the true story of the first time the author took an edible
> 
> Don't do drugs kids


	9. The Sketchbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale wakes up in Crowley's house, very confused and concerned for his friend. The two have an important conversation about what Crowley's wants out of life.

Aziraphale’s mouth was dry and his limbs felt heavy as he gradually emerged from the fog of a deep sleep. He felt something warm and firm underneath his head. His eyes slowly opened, letting in the light bit by bit. He didn’t recognize where he was. He started to panic, his memory from the night before was hazy. Images swam around in his head in no particular order. Then he realized what the warmth under his head was; they were legs. He had his head in someone’s lap. He jerked his head up suddenly to see who it was. To his immediate relief, it was a familiar face. Crowley was sitting up in bed next to him, his back to the headboard. Despite being upright, he was asleep, with his head hanging forward and his eyes closed. Finally, something from the night before came back to him; he remembered Crowley taking him home and him getting sick. He also remembered Crowley very kindly taking care of him, which explained why was sitting next to him, asleep. He couldn’t understand why he had gotten so sick, he didn’t remember drinking that much, but he could still taste bile in the back of his throat.

Carefully, he climbed out of bed, trying not to wake his sleeping friend. He already felt bad for being such a mess, he wanted to let him rest as long as possible. He walked out of the bedroom, looking for the kitchen, in desperate need of water. However, on the way there, he found himself stopping to stare in awe at the jungle he had suddenly walked into. The main room was filled with lush, green plants. They lined every wall, giving the impression that one was in some sort of green house, rather than a business student’s flat. One of the only gaps was to make space for what appeared to be an absolutely massive fish tank, though it didn’t contain any water. Instead, it was filled with more plants, including some thick wooden logs and branches. Aziraphale spotted the bright yellow snake Crowley had showed him before wrapped around one of the branches. She looked at him in what he interpreted to be a curious manner, he cringed but offered her a small wave.

After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, he returned to continue looking around. He then heard a groan from behind him. He turned around to see Crowley enter the room, rubbing his neck like it was sore.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale greeted in a soft, apologetic voice.

“G’morning,” Crowley said through a yawn, stretching his arms. “How do you feel?”

“Better after drinking some water. I don’t know what was wrong with me, I didn’t think I drank that much…” He said sheepishly.

“You didn’t,” Crowley interjected. “These two assholes I know thought it would be funny to give you a pot brownie,”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. More memories began to slot into place, he remembered the two men and the brownie now. He felt very naïve for not having realized earlier. “Well that explains it…” He mumbled, embarrassed. He stood there for a moment, trying to sift through more of the clouds in his mind. “Did… Did I…” He began, the blood draining from his face suddenly as the image of his lips on Crowley’s neck became clear. “Try to… kiss you?”

Crowley didn’t answer, but the way he looked away and the tint of red on his cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorr-”

“It’s fine,” Crowley cut him off abruptly just as he was hastily starting to apologize.

“But I just- Well I didn’t know what I was-”

“I said it’s fine!” Crowley snapped at him this time, raising his voice. He shrunk back, his mouth clamping shut. His friend sighed heavily at that, going over to the sofa and collapsing down on to it.

“Are… are you mad at me?” He asked in a nervous voice. He couldn’t blame Crowley if he was, he already suspected Crowley was upset with him before the party, and after last night, well, it only made sense. Even so, the thought that his best friend might actually hate him now was frightening. He felt scared, he felt stupid, and he felt alone.

“No,” Crowley replied, but there was no comfort in his voice. It was dry and hollow, a shell of its normal liveliness. “I’m not mad. I’m just… I’m tired,” He said after a moment. He certainly looked exhausted. Not just from sleeping poorly the night before, it was deeper than that. He wasn’t just physically tired, Aziraphale could see he was emotionally drained as well.

“Tired of what?” He silently prayed the answer wasn’t ‘you’.

“Of… of everything!” Crowley threw his arms up in a gesture of surrender, letting them fall back on to the couch like he didn’t have the energy to let them down slowly. “I’m tired of… of feeling like shit! I’m tired of having a different crisis every week! I’m tired of having to lie about my stupid grades to my parents! I’m tired of even being in fucking school!”

Aziraphale looked at him with deep empathy and concern. He had no idea his friend had been suffering so much. He knew something was different, but through it all Crowley had always put on that carefree grin of his and he hadn’t caught on. “You… don’t want to be in school?” He cautiously walked closer, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“No! I’ve always hated school and I don’t even care about fucking business,”

“Then why don’t you drop out?” Aziraphale asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“My parents threatened to cut me off,” Crowley spat out miserably. “Besides, what else would I do?”

“What are you interested in?”

That seemed to stump Crowley, as though he’d never thought to ask that of himself. After a minute he gestured around the room, his expression reluctant and self-conscious. “I do… well… I spend most of my time either taking care of Bastard or cultivating my plants,” He explained. “And… I’ve always thought outer space was really cool. That sounds stupid…”

“No, it doesn’t,” Aziraphale said supportively. “It sounds like you’re interested in science. Plants, animals, space. Have you ever considered switching majors?” He asked, trying to prompt further introspection.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not smart enough for that. I’ve never really liked school. Plus, my parents would never let me,”

“I’m not asking what your parents will let you do, I’m asking what you want to do,” Aziraphale said firmly. “What would make you happy?”

Crowley looked lost in thought for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. Then he abruptly got up and went back into the bedroom. He returned seconds later with a thick black book that had no markings on the cover. He handed it to Aziraphale silently. Aziraphale was confused, but took it and opened it up. To his surprise, it was filled with beautiful, realistic drawings. Some were just sketches, while others were colored in with the rich pigment of colored pencils. There was an obvious motif of nature, lots of drawings of plants, or scenes captured in parks. Abstract looking drawings of planets and nebulas made frequent appearances. There was even a sketch that Aziraphale recognized as the inspiration for Crowley’s tattoo. He never would have guessed he had drawn it himself. He never would have guessed any of these beautiful drawings had been done by his friend.

“Crowley… these are… gorgeous!” He exclaimed breathlessly. “You should be pursuing this!” He told him earnestly.

“You really think so?” Crowley had his arms crossed over his chest and was looking away from him.

“Yes!” He got up and moved so he could look into Crowley’s eyes. “If this is what makes you happy, you should be doing this instead of slogging through school so miserably,”

Crowley smiled, but he looked uncertain and eventually shook his head. “I really appreciate the kind words but… I don’t know. I might just be better off doing what my parents say,”

Aziraphale looked down at the sketchbook, crestfallen. Then he felt Crowley put his hand on his head and ruffle his hair a little. “It’s okay, Angel. Just talking to you helped me feel a little bit better. It was good to get it off my chest,” Crowley said with a smile, but there was still that tiredness behind his eyes. Aziraphale smiled back, wishing he could do more but content to drop it for the time being.

“There’s one more thing I have to ask…”

“What’s that?”

“You named your snake _Bastard?_ ”

After Aziraphale left Crowley’s flat on that cold morning in early winter, he hoped this would mark the start of them mending their friendship. Really, it marked the start of exam season. The school became frenzied with preparing for exams and so did Aziraphale. Studying took precedent and he barely left his desk for the entirety of the next two weeks.

He had always been extremely conscientious about keeping good grades and even with everything going on in his personal life, the idea of getting anything less than outstanding marks sent him into a panic. It might seem excessive to the casual observer, but it was extremely important to him. With so many family members working at and having graduated from the university, he was very conscious of the fact that many people, including teachers, thought nepotism was the only reason he was there. He felt the need to prove himself.

When it was all over, he got the grades he wanted, but his friendship had stagnated. Going into winter break, he attempted to reach out to Crowley a few times over text, but got no reply each time. He didn’t know what to do.

It hung over him like a dark cloud while he sat at the table of a neighbor’s house one evening. A family down the street was hosting a holiday party and he had agreed to babysit a few different families’ kids so their parents could enjoy a night off. The kids were building a blanket fort while he sat at the table reading. The book was one of the required texts for a class Crowley was taking next semester. They may not be speaking at the moment, but they had never actually dissolved their agreement around homework, so he didn’t see a reason not to keep up with Crowley’s work. He was having trouble focusing, understandably.

“You seem sad,” One of the kids had broken away from playing to come talk to him. It was Adam, the self-appointed leader of the group. He was known for being very good at reading people, which either made adults very annoyed or very impressed. “What’s wrong?”

“I have this friend, and... well I haven’t heard from him in a couple of weeks so I’m worried about him,” Aziraphale explained in a melancholy voice. After how they had parted ways, the fact that Crowley hadn’t tried to talk to him in any way made his heart ache. They hadn’t left on bad terms necessarily, but things between them felt distant in a way he didn’t know how to repair. He never had actually figured out why Crowley was upset with him. He wondered if their friendship might have run its course.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Brian, a grubby faced but good-natured boy, suggested.

Aziraphale gave him an inquisitive look.

“Maybe he sleeps during winter, like how bears do?” He elaborated, shrugging.

“That’s called hibernation,” Wensleydale chimed in. He was very intelligent, but not as outgoing as his friends. Aziraphale related to him. “I read it in a book about animals,”

Aziraphale gave an empty sounding chuckle. “But he’s not a bear. He’s... well, if he’s like any animal he’s a bit more like a snake,” He said with a longing look in his eye.

“Snakes hibernate too,” Wensleydale replied informatively.

“No, they don’t,” Pepper disagreed, scrunching up her nose. She was always very contrary, but she could usually back up what she was saying. With fists, if not words. “Only fuzzy animals like bears and squirrels and rabbits hibernate,”

“Then how come you don’t see any snakes during the winter?” Adam pointed out smartly. Pepper glared at him.

An argument broke out over whether snakes could slither underneath snow. Aziraphale went back to his work. Even if Crowley was through with him, he wasn’t one to break a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rattled me a bit, I wasn't super confident writing it but I think it turned out. 
> 
> Also... I realized Azirphale's chapters tend to be longer than Crowley's lol! I need to give my poor snake son more airtime!!
> 
> Updates might be slower than they have been in the past few days bc I'm working on writing some other one shots and also need to figure out some plot details for this one


	10. Skipping Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has resolved that after winter break he will have to confront Aziraphale about his true feelings. Things don't go as planned.

“Merry Christmas bitch,” Bea was standing in the doorway of Crowley’s room, their arms crossed. Crowley glared at them from his bed, refusing to even take out his earphones. He had escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom the second Christmas dinner was over. He wasn’t in the mood to hear a liturgy of passive aggressive judgment about his hair or his earrings. Bea wasn’t passive aggressive, though, they were just aggressive.

They were ten years older than him, and yet they had just recently become the youngest person to ever be promoted to head of the board of directors of their family company. It was supposedly a shipping company, but anyone with a braincell could figure out that they had their fingers in a plethora of different sectors and had done for decades. This included some less than legal enterprises. The people around Bea who challenged them had an affinity for getting into dangerous accidents. These two factors were most likely the reason their grandad had chosen Bea for the position. He was less fond of Crowley, often complaining about his penitent for “asking too many questions”.

Crowley didn’t care. He had never cared much about anyone’s opinion of him, he didn’t see why his family should be any different. Especially since they never really seemed to care much about what he had to say. So, at least their relationship was balanced.

Bea walked over towards him and yanked his earphones out of his ears by the cord. “What are you drawing?” They asked, tilting their head to look at the sketchbook on his lap. He slapped a hand over it to cover the sketch he was working on.

“None of your fucking business,” He growled. “Why are you even in here? Get tired of all the aunties and uncles kissing your boots?”

They didn’t reply, instead putting their hand on Crowley’s face and shoving his head back to distract him while they pulled the book out from under his hand.

“Hey what the fuck?!” He squawked in anger, trying to grab it back but they were too quick and were already across the room. The sketch was of Aziraphale.

“Who’s this? The squeeze du jour?” They asked dryly. “He doesn’t look like your type,”

“He’s not a squeeze and he’s definitely not ‘du jour’,” Crowley got up and finally was able to grab the book back from their hands. “And what do you know about my type?”

They shrugged. “Nothing I guess. Just assumed you’d go for someone a little more edgy. Fit your whole ‘rejected black sheep’ aesthetic. So, if he’s not a squeeze does that mean you’re going to bring him home?”

“We’re not dating!” Crowley snapped, a little too much anger in his voice. Bea smirked, putting up their hands in a falsely passive gesture.

“No need to be so hostile,”

“Can I reiterate, why the hell are you in my room?” Crowley asked, trying to herd them towards the door. They didn’t budge, despite the fact that Crowley towered over them. He probably could have lifted them up and carried them out, but he wouldn’t dare.

“Auntie was telling me how well you’re doing at school,” They replied in a snide voice. “Seems like she wants you on the board in a few years,”

“Yeah, so?” Crowley grumbled, giving up on getting them out of his room. He dropped back on to his bed and went back to adding detail to his sketch.

“So, I thought I’d come see if you’re actually doing well in school or if I’m just going to have to hire you as someone’s glorified secretary so you don’t fuck anything up,” Bea said with a ruthless, hollow smile.

Crowley didn’t feel the need to reply to that. He didn’t want to be baited into admitting anything that would get him into the family’s bad books.

“Unless, you have… other plans?” Bea added, looking at him with judgment in their eyes. “I’ve always got the feeling you don’t want to work for the family business,” They pried.

“And what if I don’t?” He snapped, his sarcastic nature getting the better of him.

“What would you rather do?” Bea snarked, a cruel laugh trickling out of their lips. “Be some sort of artist? I know you’re proud of being the _redheaded stepchild,_ so to speak, but are you actually trying to get disowned?”

Crowley shot them a glare, but he knew the way he curled in on himself self-consciously gave away the sting he felt at that comment. They laughed louder, a harsh, biting sound that cut through the air like a blade.

“Oh, come on, Anthony, you can’t be serious?” They jeered. Crowley still remained silent. Their expression faded into a dull grimace. “Would you rather be scraping by on whatever measly cash you can get for your drawings or would you rather never have to worry about money? Do you know how many people would kill to have your life?” Bea rolled their eyes when he still refused to reply. “Grow up,” They spat at him. Then they turned around and started to leave.

Crowley sat there with pursed lips, debating on whether to say what had come to his mind.

“Hey Bea,” They stopped in the doorway when he spoke, but kept their back to him. “Didn’t you used to be in a _band?_ ” The door slammed behind them when they left.

Crowley had a tight-lipped smile on his face. It was cold and triumphant. However, when he looked back at his sketchbook and saw the messy drawing of a soft, smiling face, his own expression softened. His eyes flicked over to his phone.

Early that morning, long before he had even woken up, it had buzzed on his night stand. The message ‘Merry Christmas!’ from a contact labeled ‘Angel’ was the first thing to greet him that day. How fitting, that the first greeting he got on the day when supposedly the angels had sung so long ago, was from his very own, personal angel.

He hadn’t replied.

He hadn’t replied to the thirteen other texts he’d received over the past few weeks either. Not the ones asking how he was doing. Not the one reminding him to purchase his textbooks for next semester. Not even the picture of a mug with a snake shaped handle followed by the words ‘thought of you’.

This was not because he didn’t want to reply. He wanted very desperately to reply. It was rather, that he thought if he let himself start typing, he might not stop. If he gave himself an inch he would take a mile. Once he had hit send, he feared he might just as well pick up the phone and call Aziraphale. Once he called Aziraphale, he knew the words would come pouring out. Words like ‘I miss you’ and ‘I think I belong with you’ and all sorts of other things.

It was all Aziraphale’s fault, really. He had to go and be so supportive and encouraging, and bother to ask what Crowley wanted out of life. No one had ever cared enough to offer that kindness to him before. Hiding his feelings for his friend had been difficult up to that point, but given the glimpse of what kind of support and care he might be able to have if only his angel could deign to love him back; it became impossible. The next time he saw Aziraphale, the careful stitches he had put in his lips would all unravel and he would just tell him how he felt.

This was in a way, relieving. The thought of not having to bite his tongue and keep his distance anymore was like being released from a prison of his own design. It was also completely terrifying. If Aziraphale rejected him, there was no going back to the way it was before, they would have to be done. Part of him suspected the prison doors were only open so he could step out in front of a firing squad.

So, for the time being, he held back. Only allowed himself to glance at the messages on his phone before swiping them away. He wanted to keep things static for as long as he possibly could before he ripped the proverbial emotional bandage off next time he saw Aziraphale in person. Perhaps that was a bit selfish, but it was what he had to do, for his own sanity.

The morning Crowley had to return to school his stomach was in knots. It was hours before Aziraphale would be sitting at the table they always met at in the library, working dutifully at studying material that hadn’t even truly been assigned yet. Yet, Crowley still felt like he had so little time to prepare. He was agonizing over trying to figure out what to say. Big teary confessions of emotion weren’t his thing. Sarcastic quips, strategic silences, and funny voices were his thing. But he imagined those weren’t the kind of things you employed when you were begging your best friend to just give you a chance to show him how madly in love you were with him.

He was so intently focused on trying to craft the perfect declaration of love, that he didn’t notice the familiar silhouette of a tan, wool jacket and cream-colored earmuffs waiting outside his flat when he pulled up in his car. He didn’t notice it until he got out and it was running towards him calling his name.

“ _Crowley!_ ”

His entire body froze. This didn’t make sense. Everything Crowley knew about Aziraphale dictated that this should not be happening right now. He stood there, mouth hanging open, at a loss for words. Aziraphale, however, was not. A veritable fountain of words sprung forth from the anxious man before him.

“I’m so sorry to show up unannounced but I just really had to speak to you and I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now but if I don’t clear the air between us I fear-”

“You’re skipping class,”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked at him like he had just sprouted horns.

“You’re skipping class,” Crowley repeated, laughing in utter disbelief this time. “Angel, it’s syllabus day and you haven’t showed up to your morning class,”

Aziraphale looked around as if trying to determine if he was on some sort of prank show. He threw his hands up in frustration. “Why the _hell_ does that matter?” He asked like he genuinely couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We haven’t spoken in over a month, I’ve come to apologize for being such a poor friend, ready to lay my soul bare, and all you can think about is the fact that I’ve _skipped a class_?!”

Crowley had the widest, stupidest, happiest grin on his face. Before Aziraphale could say another word, he swooped him up into his arms. He hugged him tightly, literally lifting him off his feet.

“Crowley! What on earth has come over you?!” Aziraphale exclaimed, deeply confused as he grabbed on to Crowley’s shoulders for dear life. 

_“I love you!”_

Crowley wasn’t afraid anymore. Not in the slightest. Because now he knew, without fraction of a doubt, that Aziraphale returned his feelings. Aziraphale never missed class. He had seen him on his death bed with the flu, attending lectures wearing a surgical mask and sipping cold medicine through a straw. The thought of walking into a classroom any later than five minutes early actually made the poor man break out in hives. Yet here he was, waiting outside Crowley’s flat in the cold when he should be transferring deadlines from his syllabus to his day planner. There was nothing in Aziraphale’s world more important than maintaining his grades. Nothing, except Crowley, apparently.

“Wh… What?” Once he had put him down, Aziraphale looked up at him with eyes so wide they threatened to escape from his skull.

“You heard me, Angel!” Crowley crowed boldly. “I said I love you! I’m in love with you! How do you like that?”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to stare at him slack-jawed. He blinked rapidly and his face went through what seemed like every possible emotion it could express. Crowley could literally watch as the different pieces started to click in the other’s mind. Finally, when they had all fit together Aziraphale threw his hands out in an expectant gesture.

“Well then kiss me you idiot!”

Crowley happily obeyed.

They packed all those repressed feelings they had been storing up for each other into that one fierce meeting of lips. Aziraphale tangled his fingers into long red hair, Crowley cradled his face in his hands. Desperate tongues clashed together as they both dived in overeagerly. Crowley’s heart pounded in his ears and he felt almost dizzy with euphoria.

Aziraphale was the one to break the kiss. Both of them panted, staring into each other’s eyes. He watched the spark of anger light up behind pure blue irises right before Aziraphale shoved him in the chest.

“I didn’t hear from you for a MONTH!” Aziraphale shouted, positively livid. Crowley made a weak attempt to interject and explain but was quickly bulldozed over. “I thought you hated me! I thought I’d gone and made some grand mistake to ruin our friendship! I was sure you never wanted to speak to me again!”

“Well I spent the three months before that thinking you were straight, so I guess we’re even then, hmm?” Crowley finally snapped in exasperation.

“You thought I was _what?_ ” Aziraphale looked offended at the very suggestion.

“What was I supposed to think?” Crowley countered throwing his hands out in front of him dramatically. “You freaked out when I kissed you and then you called me your ‘best friend’ practically while still holding my hand! I was pretty sure you were either an oblivious metrosexual or some kind of sociopath!”

“Well excuse me for not making a move but I assumed someone like you was way too far out of my league,” Aziraphale huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Out of- are you kidding?!” Crowley blurted out in shock. “First of all, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard because you’re gorgeous. Second, I’ve been literally throwing myself out you since the day we met and you couldn’t catch on that I was interested?!”

Aziraphale was blushing profusely at that point. “How was I supposed to tell? No one has ever flirted with me before and I thought your personality was just… like that!” He had to admit he might have a point there.

Crowley was too overwhelmed with joy to keep the argument going any longer. He just shook his head, laughed, and pulled Aziraphale into another tight hug. He felt him nuzzle his face into his shoulder. In turn, he buried his face into the fluff of blonde curls.

“Let’s go inside,” Crowley whispered, his mouth next to Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale shivered, and he knew that it wasn’t from the brisk December air.

In a matter of minutes, they were upstairs in Crowley’s flat, sitting on the couch, entwined in each other’s arms. They’d barely remembered to take off their coats and had simply let them fall off the sofa on to the floor. Crowley hadn’t even bothered to get the suitcase of clean laundry out of the back of his car. There were more important things to worry about.

Like Aziraphale’s lips slowly and gently moving against his own. He was sitting in the other man’s lap; his long, angular frame enveloping him as they kissed. He had been fantasizing about the possibility of this moment for months and it was somehow better than he had ever imagined. Aziraphale’s cologne was warm and earthy, and he could taste the cinnamon from the pastry he had for breakfast. His skin was soft and the hand caressing the back of his neck was still cold from being outside.

“I…” Aziraphale whispered one hesitant syllable in between their lips meeting again. Crowley paused, but didn’t pull away, their faces were still touching, noses still rubbing together. “I love you too, Anthony,” Crowley smiled against his lips.

Better than he had ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm gonna put this here bc I didn't really feel like I could explore it in the chapter: Bea (aka Beelzebub) was formerly in a punk band called "Princes of Hell" and they sang hardcore antigovernment songs. But now all their friends hate them for being a corporate stiff.


	11. A Good Example

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets called into to talk to the dean of students, who he happens to be related to about what kind of example he wants to set for the other students.

The sound of the alarm trilling from Aziraphale’s phone roused him from a deep, satisfying sleep. He opened his mouth for a wide yawn as he slowly sat up. A discontented groan came from the blanket next to him. Lengthy arms snaked out from underneath the covers and wrapped around his waist, trapping him in bed.

“I have to get up now, dear,” He chuckled. “I have class in an hour,”

“Fuck class,” Crowley grumbled, rubbing his face against Aziraphale’s side in the manner of a drowsy cat. “I don’t want you to go,” He whined.

“But I must,” Aziraphale insisted, though he didn’t actually make any more moves to get out of bed. He raked his fingers through the nest of red tangles that was obscuring his love’s face. They had been officially dating for just over a week now, and this was the second time in that week that Aziraphale had spent the night. It was the first time, though, that he had woken up with dark love bites peppering his collar bones. He blushed as he saw the feeble attempt he had left on Crowley’s neck. He had been afraid of hurting him when he left it. He reached out and gently ran a thumb over it. Golden eyes peeked up at him, followed by a smirk.

“Admiring your handiwork?” Crowley teased, making Aziraphale turn even redder.

“Why don’t you get up too?” He asked. “We could grab breakfast together at that café down the street,”

Crowley snickered and rolled his eyes at the abrupt change of subject. “Fine,” He agreed after a moment, sitting up and arching his back in a deep stretch. “But I need to jump in the shower and rinse off first,” He stood up and Aziraphale couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful form glistening in the morning light. His broad shoulders, shapely legs, and yes, even his pert ass cheeks. He still couldn’t believe that he could reach out and touch him if he wanted. That he had been running his hands all up and down those gorgeous contours and muscles just a handful of hours ago.

He knew that Crowley knew he was staring by how slowly he sauntered away to the bathroom, but he wasn’t about to complain. When the door finally shut behind him and the shower started to run, Aziraphale released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. It took another minute of composing himself, but he got up and started to get dressed. He had brought a set of extra clothes in his bag last night, so he thankfully didn’t have to fish around in Crowley’s hamper for the crumpled ones he had been wearing yesterday.

Crowley had chosen to wear a particularly low-cut shirt that day, despite it still being midwinter, and a thick silver necklace that fell right under the light little bruise on his neck, immediately drawing the eye there. Aziraphale suspected this was on purpose. He was thankful his own shirt could cover all the deep purple splotches he was sporting, if it was buttoned all the way up. “Have you no shame?” He asked, embarrassed but not enough to keep from holding Crowley’s hand as they walked down the street to the café.

“Last time I checked? No,” Crowley replied, swinging their hands back and forth.

They ate their pastries while walking so that they wouldn’t be late. Crowley kissed him goodbye on the cheek before they parted ways and went about the day separately. It was a completely mundane day of class. Aziraphale had emailed all his teachers the day he missed, claiming to have had a health emergency, and since it had only been the first day anyway, he caught up fairly quickly.

Between classes he looked at his phone and was surprised to see he had gotten a text from his uncle.

‘Stop by my office after you finish class, we need to chat.’

He wondered what that could possibly be about. It made him slightly nervous, he didn’t talk to his uncle much outside of school functions and family get-togethers. It was really rather odd for him to specifically request to see him. He tried to convince himself he was probably just going to rope him in to volunteering for some fundraising event again.

After his last class had ended, he quickly made his way to the main administrative building.

“Do you have an appointment to see the dean of students?” The secretary asked without looking up from his computer screen when he heard the door to the office open.

“Hello, Sam,” Sandalphon looked up when he recognized the voice and gave that weedy smile of his.

“Oh, hello Aziraphale, is Mr. Christenson expecting you?” Aziraphale nodded and Sandalphon waved him in. He opened the heavy, ornate wooden door that led to his uncle’s office and stepped inside.

“Aziraphale!” He was greeted by an overly cheerful American accent the second he stepped in the room. It reminded him of his father. No one would guess his father was American upon meeting Aziraphale. Mostly because he had been born and raised in London, and since being a surgeon and head of the school of medicine kept Mr. Christenson quite busy, his accent was much more heavily influenced by his mother. He had even been teased for sounding too posh when he was a kid.

“Hello Uncle Gabriel,” Aziraphale greeted him with a polite nod, shifting on his feet nervously. “You wanted to see me?” He prompted, trying to get to the purpose of the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Yes, here, have a seat,” Gabriel replied jovially, gesturing at a chair across from his desk. Gabriel smiled at him. His smiles always looked so fake and plastic. Which wasn’t even because he had had work done, though that was also true, it was just because he was the type of person who always had a smile plastered to his face no matter if he liked you or not. “So, I heard you were sick on the first day of class?” He asked with feigned concern.

Aziraphale nodded rapidly. “Yes, I think I got food poisoning on the last day of break,” He muttered anxiously, grimacing and putting a hand over his stomach for effect. “Short sighted of me to try a new restaurant that night, really. But I got all caught up the next day and I’ve been doing just fine since,”

“Good to hear,” Gabriel said. “Missing class is just so unlike you, Aziraphale. You’re so studious! You had me really worried,”

“I can assure you it won’t happen again,” Aziraphale replied, hoping this was all he had wanted to talk about. He eyed the door and put a hand on his bag, but was not so lucky.

“Speaking of acting out of character,” Gabriel started and Aziraphale felt like he could hear the metaphorical other shoe drop. “I’ve heard you’ve been hanging around with a different crowd this year, is that true?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Aziraphale was pretty sure he knew exactly what Gabriel was talking about. He could feel a few drops of sweat break out on his forehead.

“Your cousin Michael,” _Snitch_. Aziraphale thought instantly at the mention of her name _._ She had always been a tattle tale since they were kids.“Told me you’ve been posting a lot on social media about a student named Anthony Crowley? And that she suspected you might be in a relationship,” He swallowed hard, choosing to examine the intricate stained-glass window above his head rather than meeting his eye. It portrayed angels playing trumpets.

Coming out to a family member you don’t particularly like is never easy, but caught off guard as he was, Aziraphale didn’t even know where to begin. At the very least, he was glad that there wasn’t a risk of being outed to his parents. He had already climbed that mountain in his last year of secondary school and they were mildly supportive though “couldn’t see the reason to make such a fuss about it” and thus hadn’t told any of the extended family. It wasn’t ideal, but he understood the private and old-fashioned nature of his family, and certainly knew it could be a lot worse.

“W-well um, you see I...” He started in a small voice. Gabriel barely seemed to notice he was talking though.

“Now I know what you’re thinking, and that is not the case,” He said, leaving Aziraphale puzzled. “I’m not bringing this up because of the _gay_ thing,” Aziraphale bristled uncomfortably at how he said that last part. If the phrasing wasn’t bad enough the patronizing tone he used made him clench his jaw tightly. “I’m a modern guy, and this,” He gestured around him. “Is a modern university. Inclusivity is a good thing! So it’s not the fact that you’re dating a man it’s just... well I don’t mean to sound like I’m trying to parent you,” He chuckled. “But do you really think this guy is a good influence?”

“A good influence?” Aziraphale repeated gritting his teeth after he spoke.

“I searched through his social media a little and I did some asking around. He seems to have a reputation as a partier,” Aziraphale was clenching his fists in his lap, furious at the invasion of privacy but feared the repercussions of saying so. “On top of that, he isn’t exactly a good student,”

“Why does that matter?” Aziraphale finally spoke up but he still tried to restrain his frustration from being audible. “ _My_ grades are still perfectly good. So I don’t see why his grades or what he does should matter,” He tried to reason with him.

“Aziraphale you have to understand, you’re not just any student,” Gabriel said dismissively. “You’re a representative of this university. As the son of an administrator, you need to demonstrate this institution’s values. And that extends to who you associate with. Dating someone like that makes it seem like we as a family support that kind of behavior and well, that looks bad for the school,” He said as though it was a perfectly reasonable request to ask him to break up with his boyfriend to make the school look good. “You have to set a good example. That is… If you want to continue attending this university,” It was said with that same plastic smile he had had on this entire time, but Aziraphale could tell that last statement was a warning.

His stomach dropped. Without his family’s help, there was no way he could continue on with his studies. Literature was his passion, but Crowley was his love. His mind raced to find a way around this situation; surely, he wasn’t really being forced to choose between them. There must be some way he could have both. That had become his specialty, finding holes in other people’s plans and slipping through them unnoticed. People, rightfully, accused his family of nepotism so he made himself into the most humble, hardworking student he could possibly be. He needed an excuse to spend time with Crowley, so he entered into the agreement to do his work for him. People were going to drink and drive, he would just steal their keys before they could. Now if he had to use that cunning and that unassuming nature of his to slide his relationship by his family, so be it. It may be difficult but he would continue to tightrope walk the line between obeying and disobeying for the rest of his life if he needed to.

Gabriel’s fake smile never really made it to his eyes. Aziraphale met his judgmental, piercing gaze. He wiped any expression from his face and spoke with a perfect evenness in his tone.

“I understand. I’ll be sure to set a better example, moving forward,”


	12. Snow Falling On A Bandstand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale breaks the news about his conversation with Gabriel to Crowley.

Crowley was walking on air that day. Well, in actuality he was walking a bit crooked. Though that hardly bothered him. On the contrary; between the slight stagger in his usual hips-first strut, and the weak excuse for a hickey on his neck, he liked the idea that people could tell just by looking at him that he’d been thoroughly debauched by his new boyfriend the night before. He truly felt no shame in broadcasting to the world that he was in love and getting his back blown out as an added bonus.

He sauntered through the door of his morning class late enough to get a searing glare from the professor. He at least had the decency, if it could be called that, to tip his sunglasses down and feign contrition in his eyes while mouthing the word ‘Sorry’. His heeled boots clacked obnoxiously on the tile as he headed for his seat in the back next to Eve, to his delight, drawing more eyes to him from around the room. Eve was losing it; she was holding her fist over her mouth to try and hide the fact she was shaking with silent laughter at his spectacle.

“It’s about fucking time,” She whispered when she finally got a hold of herself and the rest of the class had turned their attention back to the professor. “I’m impressed honestly, at the pace you were going I thought it’d take you at least another six months to even hold hands,”

Crowley stuck his tongue out at her, but even her mocking couldn’t wipe the satisfied smile off his face.

Throughout the whole day his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Aziraphale. Despite his behavior, his thoughts weren’t sexual, _mostly_. He couldn’t help if the image of Aziraphale, naked and sweaty, his face contorted in ecstasy, his own legs hooked over Aziraphale’s shoulders, happened to creep into his brain. However, for the most part, his thoughts were pure. He daydreamed about the dates they could go on now that they were together. The lazy mornings they might spend cuddling in bed, or busy nights going out on the town. He thought about the way Aziraphale’s voice sounded when he said his name. Sweetly, reproachfully, sleepily, whatever the tone it hit his ears like music.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he snapped it up to look at it. He practically had hearts in his eyes when he saw the word “Angel” on the screen.

‘Can’t meet at the library at our regular time today, have a meeting

I’ll walk you home after, meet me in front of the admin building?’

‘Sounds good <3’

After class was out he made his way across campus. His eagerness resounded in the clatter of his shoes against the pavement. He rounded the corner and saw someone facing away from him in brown parka. The tail of a powder blue scarf hung over one shoulder, giving away who it was. “Aziraphale!” He called out to get his attention. The other man turned around, confirming it was indeed his boyfriend, and gave him a bit of a wave. The redhead picked up his pace with a grin. However, he faltered when he got closer and saw the worry on Aziraphale’s face. His eyes were downcast and there was a deep furrow in his brow.

“Something wrong?”

Aziraphale glanced at him but took his eyes away almost immediately. “Hmm? Oh, yes everything’s fine,” He said, almost mumbling. “Shall we?” He added quickly gesturing that they should walk forward.

Crowley wanted to take his hand, give it a reassuring squeeze, but when he looked down to grab it he found that both of them were buried deep in his pockets. He reluctantly did the same, hiding his bony, ungloved fingers from the harsh January air.

They started their walk silently. Normally they would have been chatting up a storm by now, but every time Crowley looked over at him to try to speak, he saw Aziraphale’s lips moving and his features contorting like he was trying to form words that wouldn’t come. He knew the other had something to say and anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what it could possibly be.

They were closing in on his neighborhood, Aziraphale started to look panicked.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

He looked up at Crowley. His eyes were full of love and concern, and maybe just a little bit of fear. He sighed heavily. “Can we… take a detour through the park?”

Crowley didn’t understand what was happening but he would do anything for Aziraphale. “Yeah sure,”

They turned off of the street that would take them to Crowley’s flat and instead started down the paved path in the park. After a bit, fat, wet globs of snow began to fall from the sky. It was more slush than snow really. The kind that could soak through your coat if you stood in it too long. They took shelter under an empty bandstand in the middle of the park.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a deep breath, taking a few steps away and turning to face him. The way he said it made Crowley’s stomach sink. He couldn’t explain it, but he could just sense bad news was coming. “My uncle Gabriel called me into his office today,” Crowley had heard many a story about the self-righteous, controlling, always grinning ‘Uncle Gabriel’. It was no wonder Aziraphale was upset, he could only imagine what that prick had said this time. “He well, he let me know that he knows that we’re… together. And he… he seems to be convinced… that you’re…”

“Out with it, Angel,” Crowley hadn’t meant to snap but he was already bristling with annoyance just knowing that Gabriel had felt the need to talk about him.

“He thinks you’re bad for my reputation,” Aziraphale finally just spat it out in one nervous breath. “Or well, more accurately, my family’s reputation,”

Crowley had an annoyed glare on his face and he shrugged. “So? He’s a wanker, why should I care what he thinks about me? Are you really this broken up over his stupid fucking opinion?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Exasperation edged its way into his voice. “He said that if I want to keep my scholarship I need to present a certain type of image, be a good representative for the school,”

Even in the cold air Crowley could feel his face starting to get hot. Anger was slowly starting to burn inside him as he began to understand what was happening. “Oh right of course, can’t have a freak like me blemishing that perfect image,” He spat sarcastically.

“Don’t say it like that…”

He really didn’t even care that Gabriel thought that about him. He had been expecting that, secretly dreading the day he would have to meet Aziraphale’s family. He knew they were uptight and judgmental, and he was the first to admit he was a lot to take in. What was really getting to him, making his guts churn with rage, was that Aziraphale didn’t seem to be disagreeing with him. He seemed to really be taking his uncle’s words seriously, and it pissed him off immensely.

“So…? What?!” Crowley’s voice started to raise in volume. “Are you breaking up with me?!”

“No!” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with panic. He shook his head frantically and took a step forward. “I’m just… Well we’re going to have to keep things… quiet. From now on,”

“So, we’re just going to start lying to everyone?” Crowley looked disgusted at the suggestion.

Aziraphale clenched his fists at his sides, his posture unnaturally stiff and his tone defensive. “You didn’t seem to mind lying when it was to all your teachers and family about who was getting you those good grades,”

“That’s different!” Crowley shouted. “How can you not see how immensely different that is?!”

“Why are you getting mad at me? Can’t you see this is hurting me too? I can’t help my family is fucked up! You of all people should relate to that. This is just what we’re going to have to do!”

“And what happens when they find out?”

Aziraphale looked away, his mouth shut tight, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“It’s pointless! We all live and work and go to school in the same fucking place! How long are we really going to be able to keep it secret?”

“Maybe,” Aziraphale’s eyes were wild, desperate. He looked like an animal desperately trying to dig its way out of a metal cage. “If we just both work our hardest, then when they do find out they’ll see that we’re doing well and they’ll come to understand!”

“I cannot _believe_ you really think that,” Crowley groaned in frustration. Aziraphale wilted, it was obvious he didn’t actually think that would happen either. Even as mad as he was, Crowley couldn’t help but feel for him. “Look ok,” He tried his hardest to speak a little more calmly. “Even if they do find out and you lose your scholarship, is that so bad? I mean, why does all this school stuff even matter? We should just both drop out and start working! We could get a little flat together, you could work in a bookshop, wouldn’t that be better than putting up with all this bullshit from our families?”

Aziraphale’s mouth hung open. He looked absolutely offended. “What do you mean ‘what does it matter’? This is what I’m passionate about Crowley! This is what I want to do with my life! I want to be a professor one day!”

“So what then?! Are we just going to break up when they find out?!”

_“Maybe we should!”_

“You don’t mean that,” Crowley growled derisively.

“We obviously do not have the same values!”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ ,” Aziraphale was yelling now too. “That, unlike you, I am not satisfied just letting go of what I’m truly passionate about! And I know you hate your family, but that doesn’t mean I hate mine! They put a lot of pressure on me but I know they only do it because they _love_ me!”

“You’re really going to take their side? Over me? Over _us_?”

Aziraphale went quiet, he couldn’t meet Crowley’s eye.

“If they really loved you they wouldn’t make you choose,” Crowley sneered. His heart was breaking. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to punch Gabriel in his stupid fucking face. What he was doing instead was lashing out at Aziraphale. “And you’re right, Aziraphale, we don’t have the same values. Because I actually _value_ our relationship!”

“I value our relationship! But I’m just not ready to give up on my education!”

_“Whatever!”_

Crowley turned on his heels and began to storm off. He whipped around to throw a few more barbs at Aziraphale as he walked. “Fuck you and your whole stupid fucking judgmental family!” He got one last glance at Aziraphale’s face and saw as the shock of realization that he was really leaving came over him. He left him standing there, alone, under the bandstand. The snow began to come down more heavily, leaving a storm in his wake.

He was done being put down for not wanting to bow to someone’s stupid, superficial standards. If Aziraphale was really willing to give up on them, after all they had been through, that was his problem.

He didn’t really believe that was true, though. He knew Aziraphale well enough to know that somewhere in that pretentious, obedient brain of his, he knew this wasn’t right. He complained all the time about his family’s unrealistic standard and how they were so disingenuous. Crowley truly believed that once Aziraphale came to his senses he’d come crying back to him. It was the only reason he was walking away right now. He wasn’t ready to leave Aziraphale, not on his life. He was just giving him space to realize what an ass he was being.

As he stalked out of the park, out of sight from his distressed lover, the wet snow flakes that were hitting his cheeks were joined by hot streaks of tears.

Even if he knew with all certainty he was right, and they would make it through this, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry I've been gone for so long. 
> 
> A lot has been going on in my life and I just didn't have the emotional energy to write. But I'm getting back into a normal rhythm again so here's hoping I can keep it up.


	13. Called Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale attempts to transfer schools without his family finding out.

“Name, year, course, and university you will be transferring from,” The disheveled looking desk worker barked at Aziraphale with the intonation of a drill sergeant. His name was ‘Mr. Shadwell’, according to the little plaque on his desk. Despite his fierce tone his eyes looked bored and unfocussed. He wreaked of stale coffee and cigarette smoke. His accent was heavily _something_ , but it wasn’t something Aziraphale could place. _Northern, maybe? Scottish?_

“Ah, um, Aziraphale Christenson. I’m currently in my second year in the English program at Blessed Elisabeth Leseur University,” He fumbled with his hands in lap nervously. He wished he could just deal with this all online, that would be much easier. However, putting in an online application required you to provide the contact information for your current academic advisor. He knew how quickly word spread through the administrative building. He couldn’t let Gabriel find out he was trying to transfer. His family would be furious with him, generations of Christenson’s had all gotten their degrees from Elisabeth Leseur. Even thinking of going somewhere else was practically heresy.

_Because having a child with a doctorate from a different prestigious university would really be such a tragedy._ He thought to himself bitterly.

“Transcripts,” Mr. Shadwell barked again, holding out his hand expectantly, Aziraphale handed over a manila folder.

“That has my transcripts and my written application-”

“Will you be applying for financial aid?” Mr. Shadwell barely let him finish his sentence.

“Yes, I… um, well I’m hoping to apply for an academic merit scholarship,”

He was hoping beyond hope that if he could just get a decent academic scholarship it would show his parents that he was serious about his education, regardless of where he went. They were reasonable people. They were _kind- well maybe not kind._ He thought with a grimace. But they _were_ reasonable, and they did love him. If he could just show them that how far he was willing to go to get his education and be with Crowley at the same time, they would understand.

Gabriel may have been the one to tell him initially, but his parents had echoed the same sentiment when he’d spoken to them on the phone that night. His voice had been steady and calm, but tears were streaming down his cheeks as he told them that Crowley had broken up with him. They were relieved. He was crushed.

That was what this was all about, after all. Crowley.

Well it was about Crowley and it wasn’t.Crowley was more like the catalyst that had started the reaction. His family had always put unreasonably high expectations on him. It was because they wanted him to succeed. But telling him he had to leave the person he loved just to uphold the school’s reputation was ridiculous, even for them.

He just had to show them how absurd they were being. Just had to prove to them that he was still the hard-worker he had always been. Then they would see. He was sure of it.

“That’s a separate application than need-based financial aid,” Shadwell looked him over critically. “Won’t be needing that will ya, laddy,” It was worded like a question but it was most certainly a judgment.

“W-well I might…” Aziraphale was suddenly very self-conscious of his well-manicured hands and his expensive leather bag. He may not dress ostentatiously but it still wasn’t hard to guess he was well-off by looking at him. “I uh… I recently had a falling out with my parents so I am currently lacking in financial support,” He turned a bit red in the face, embarrassed to admit that he had no income and no savings of his own.

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” Mr. Shadwell said with a sardonic glare. He snarled something under his breath that sounded like _‘ya pansy’_. Aziraphale gulped, feeling very uncomfortable. He looked through the manila folder, coughing a gruff, mucus-filled cough as he eyed the documents Aziraphale had handed him. “Alright, looks to be all in order, now I just need to get approval from your university to transfer your credits,”

“Wait wh- No!” Aziraphale said, panicked. “No, no, no why do you need to get approval for my credits if my application hasn’t even gone through?” His voice was practically pleading with the man. Nervous laughter trickled through his words, an unconscious attempt to hide his terror.

“Just the way it is,”

“But that’s ridiculous-”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?” Mr. Shadwell raised his voice threateningly.

“No, but- just- well you need to make an exception! I just need to get my application approved first-”

“No exceptions!”

“But you don’t understand!” Aziraphale was getting desperate, his voice angry and frantic now.

“You posh southern types think you can just get whatever you want with a wave of your fancy hand!” He furiously typed something into his keyboard. “Request sent! Now get out of my office!”

Aziraphale’s stomach dropped. This stupid, stubborn man had just thrown a massive wrench in his whole plan. He felt sick as he stood up and left the office. He wondered just how long he had before the news got back to his family. Both a collective fear of Gabriel and love of gossip ran rampant in the administrative office; so probably just a couple hours. He stood outside the transfer building, his face pale and hands shaking from stress.

“Oh, _Fuck.”_

Sure enough, he got a call demanding he come straight home no less than three hours later.

“Is this because of that boy?”

He sat at the kitchen table, his parents standing on the other side. 

“ _Boy?_ Mother, I am an adult!”

“Like hell you are! You’re living completely off our dime! You don’t even have a job!”

“Neil dear, please calm down,”

“No, if he’s going to act like a child I’m going to treat him like a child,” His father snapped at his mother, absolutely livid. “We take care of all your expenses, provide you with an entirely free higher education, and we ask hardly anything of you!” That stung. They may not outright tell Aziraphale to do many things but that didn’t mean he wasn’t working his ass off to meet their expectations. There was an unspoken code of conduct in this family that he had never dared to break. Go to our school, get perfect grades, show up to all the events, stand by your uncle, always smile, never complain, always present the perfect image. “But you would turn down all that generosity and put our reputation on the line all for your little boyfriend? You are behaving like an _ungrateful brat!_ ”

Aziraphale attempted to open his mouth to argue but they were not having it. In order to prove the point of just how much he relied on their generosity, his father took his laptop and his phone right out of his bag. He even took his key to the student flat he lived in and shook it at him. “You are going to stay here tonight and think about how you’ve made your mother and I feel, and you had better be ready to apologize in the morning,”

Without word, Aziraphale shoved away from the table and went upstairs to his old bedroom. Despite how much he hated how they were treating him like a child, it wasn’t like he could do much else. He wasn’t going to wrestle the key out of his hands. Even if he did, _then what?_ It was student housing, they could have him kicked out if they wanted. They had his phone so he couldn’t call a friend and stay at their place. The only person he would call didn’t want to speak to him, anyway. His heart ached as when he thought about Crowley.

It was four days after they had broken up. He had planned to talk to Crowley again the second his application for a transfer went through, but that wasn’t how it ended up happening. No, to his surprise, Crowley had come to him first.

It happened this morning; it hadn’t even been a full day, but it already felt like it was ages ago. Talking to Crowley seemed so painfully out of reach to him now that it didn’t make sense that he had done just that less than twelve hours earlier. He was just leaving his flat, flipping through the manila folder he was carrying despite having already checked that he had the correct documents every five minutes since he woke up that morning. The familiar roar of a vintage engine ripping around a corner way too fast rang out and caused him to look up. The Bentley had pulled up beside him on the street, just barely managing not to crash into the curb.

“Angel!” Crowley jumped out of the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said I didn’t mean it,” He was breathless, like the words couldn’t rush out of his mouth fast enough. Aziraphale stared at him, dumbfounded. “Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car,”

“What? No!” Aziraphale replied, shocked. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on, but he couldn’t give up on his plan now. He was just about to set everything right. Once he transferred they could be together again.

“Look I just nearly got arrested and my family found out about me dropping out and now my cousin is trying to put me in hospital, or maybe kill me, doesn’t matter,” He sounded like an absolute lunatic. “But you, Angel you are the only thing I care about and if the two of us can just get out of town, run away together, keep our heads down, everything will be fine!”

“Crowley that’s- that’s insane! I can’t just disappear with you!” Aziraphale was overwhelmed by all this new information. “If you’re that scared of them why don’t you go to the police?”

Crowley let out a groan of frustration and shook his head. “Did you miss the part about me also being on the run from the police too? Angel please,” He moved closer and put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “We really do not have any options at this point. What would you even be leaving behind? You’re not happy, I’m not happy! But we could go be happy if we could just get away from them!” He knew that when Crowley said ‘them’ he had meant their families.

Aziraphale was silent for a beat. He looked at Crowley, felt his hands gripping him tightly, and longed for him to pull him in and hold him close. “I love you,” He said, voice gentle and earnest. “But… I can’t,” He watched Crowley’s heart break in his face and it tore him apart.

He pulled his hands of Aziraphale abruptly, shaking his head as he stormed back to his car. “I’m leaving!” He shouted as he flung the door open. “Don’t bother looking for me because you won’t find me! I’ll go off somewhere, I’ll find someone new and _I’ll forget all about you!”_

In his bed, Aziraphale had an arm over his face as he quietly sobbed his eyes out. He forced himself not to cry loud enough for his parents to hear. At the time, when Crowley had flung those hurtful words at him before getting in the car and driving away, it broke his heart but he had still had hope. He had still been holding on to the idea that people were rational. That if they just worked hard enough, both their families would be reasonable in return. In reality, all he had gotten for his trying was to be trapped in his house with nowhere to go and no hope of convincing them to change their minds. He wished he had gotten in the car. If he had to be trapped and miserable, he would rather be trapped and miserable hiding in a flat somewhere with Crowley. If only he could call him, tell him how wrong he’d been, how stupid he felt for not listening to him. He thought about trying to steal his phone back while his parents slept but he was sure his father would take it into his study and lock the door.

Wiping his tears with his sleeves he turned his head and his eyes fell on the window. Another idea gradually dawned on him. He sat up, resolving himself as he thought up a new plan. He was done trying to convince them. No matter how hard he worked it just wasn’t enough. So, he was going to stop trying to be reasonable. Everybody else seemed to be acting crazy; now it was his turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 13 chapters in and I FINALLY made up a name for the phony school they go to lol. Apparently according to my research Blessed Elisabeth Leseur is who you're supposed to pray to (if you're catholic) if you want to stop miscommunication with your spouse. 
> 
> Also things are about to go BUCK WILD with these next few chapters and it's partially because when I was outlining just started cramming in as much replicated canon as possible XD hope y'all still like it


	14. Hiding In Tadfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After realizing that Aziraphale really did mean it when they broke up, Crowley's life goes into a downward spiral. Now the police are looking for him and Bea is out for blood. Hoping to avoid being caught, he's hiding out in a little town somewhere outside of London, drinking himself into a stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA FINALLY I HAVE UPDATED!!!!
> 
> I'd like to thank the beta-readers who took the time to look over this chapter: captainazfell and brother-pigeon. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank all off you for being very patient with me!!

“Another double,” Crowley slurred, shaking his empty glass at the bartender. He sat in an ancient looking pub in some little nowhere village in Oxfordshire. The kind of pub with a plaque pointing out a brick in the foundation that was over five hundred years old. The kind where the majority of the customers had been born in the village and were now bonified regulars, only intruded upon by the occasional tourist. And now, by Crowley. 

Unsurprisingly, he was getting quite a few stares from the other patrons. He couldn’t care less. He didn’t want to be there any more than they wanted him there. The only reason he’d stopped there was because he needed petrol, and the only reason he’d stayed was because it seemed like the last place anyone would look for him.

As the bartender brought him a refill he wondered just how long he would have to stay in…  _ What was it? T… T something… Tafield? Tasfeld?  _ He struggled to remember the name he’d seen on the sign when he drove into town. This was partially because he was on his third double scotch, partially because he’d been busy screaming and swearing at the petrol meter as it hovered over E, and partially because he just  _ didn’t care _ . He had far more important things to worry about. The fact that his cousin wanted to kill him, for example. And that he’d finally let the rest of his family down enough that they didn’t care to stop it. 

Everything had gone downhill after Aziraphale broke up with him. Except by “going downhill” he really meant “plummeting off a cliff into a flaming gorge”.

He had been so sure that Aziraphale wasn’t serious when he left the park that day; he really truly believed that by the end of the day Aziraphale would call him to apologize. He had even been practicing what he would say in his head. 

_ “Look who finally came to his senses,” _

__

_ No that’s too mean.  _

__

_ “I’m glad you finally realize I’m on your side-” _

__

_ No. _

__

_ “… we’re on our side.” _

__

Then of course he would invite Aziraphale over and they would kiss in the doorway, and he would wrap his arms around him, comfort him, and reassure him that all was forgiven.

This well-scripted conversation never got the chance to play out, though. 

He waited that whole night, phone in his hand for a call that would never come. Then he waited the next day. And the next day. 

And by the end of the third day he began to panic. 

The conversation in his head shifted from him being the benevolent, forgiving figure, to him falling on his knees begging for Aziraphale to take him back. The only thing stopping him was his pride, and that was waning by the minute. 

“Am I really being that crazy?” he asked Bastard, pacing his flat as though he were the one in a glass tank. “I mean, is it that unreasonable to think that you should prioritize your own happiness over your family’s expectations?”

She didn’t reply. Just flicked her tongue at him, apathetic to his hysterics. 

“RRRGH!” He made a loud sound of frustration and clutched his fists in his own hair. It felt like he was suffocating underneath a mound of guilt, doubt, and regret. He had to get out, had to go somewhere, do  _ something _ , before he worked himself into a frenzy. Without a single thought more, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door.

Instinctively he jumped into his car and started off down the street, only to realize a block later that he had no idea where he was going. The ache in his chest was pushing him to turn right on the next street and go to Aziraphale’s place. But what would he do when he got there? It was nearly one in the morning, Aziraphale was probably asleep. Even if he wasn’t, what then? Fall on his knees and beg forgiveness? If that didn’t come across as totally insane it would come across as pathetic. Crowley couldn’t decide which was worse. At least if Aziraphale thought he was pathetic he had a chance that he’d take him back out of pity. 

That wasn’t what he wanted though, not really. He wanted that wonderful, full feeling that came with giving as much love as you could, and receiving just as much back. For just one week he’d gotten a taste of it. Months of pining had worn a hole in his heart only for it to be filled in fit to burst the second he heard Aziraphale say “I love you too,” for the first time. Now he knew he could never be satisfied by anything less. Not that he thought he deserved it. No, he was well aware that it was by fluke alone that an overdramatic, obnoxious, can’t-keep-his-mouth-shut, freak like himself had stumbled in to love so pure. That’s why he was practically rabid to get it back.

As indecision over what he was going to do began to overwhelm him, he jerked the wheel to the left and pulled over to the curb with a screech. He had to, before the tears starting to form in his eyes obscured his vision completely. 

He pressed his head on the top of the steering wheel. His eyes were shut tightly, lids squeezed together in vain as he felt hot streaks of liquid roll down his cheeks anyway. When he tried to take a deep breath, it came out as a gasping sob. He tried to inhale again and felt like he was choking on air. In a desperate attempt to get a hold of himself he flung the door of the car open and practically fell out onto the pavement. The blast of cold air that hit him seemed to help, strangely. He breathed it in and the chill filling his lungs finally gave him something to focus on besides his own goddamned emotions.

Miraculously he had somehow managed to swerve into an actual parking space so he locked the doors and started walking. Once again, he had no idea where he was going but right now the cold winter night was the last threadbare tether he had to sanity. He found himself on what was normally a pretty bustling street but since it was the middle of the night on a weekday, it wasn’t all that busy. He was grateful for that; it gave him some relative quiet so he could clear his head.

“Oi! Crowley!” a gruff voice barked at him from an alley as he walked past. He started to glance over his shoulder but when he caught sight of who had spoken he turned back forward and kept walking. Unfortunately, Ligur managed to jump out in front of him and block his way. “Woah, woah, slow down mate, where are you headed in such a rush?”

“None of your fucking business,” Crowley spat at him. Ligur’s smile turned to a scowl and he looked like he was about to say something but was promptly interrupted by a voice coming from over Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Well do you want to have a good time when you get there?” 

Crowley turned to look at Hastur. He was still partially tucked into the alley, he was tapping the ash out of a one-hitter with one hand; in the other he held up a tiny plastic bag with a few circular pills in it. 

“No thanks,”

“Oh come on, Crawley,” Hastur insisted, tone slightly mocking as he said the old nickname from secondary school and took a step towards him. “Since when do you turn down… well  _ anything _ ,” he joked and Crowley heard Ligur snicker behind him. “But especially not good shit like this,” he shook the bag. “It’s pure E, it’ll make you feel like a fucking superhero,”

“I said no thanks,”

“Why not?” Ligur asked. “Not like you can’t afford it, rich boy,”

“I’m just not in the mood!” Crowley snapped. His patience was wearing incredibly thin after the past few days he’d had.

“Wow you must be really broken up about it, if you’re turning down a chance to get fucked up,” Crowley looked at Hastur in confusion, not understanding his cryptic statement. A vile grin spread across Hastur’s face. “This girl who buys Adderall off me, Michael, she was telling me about how her cousin had to dump his boyfriend because he was some total fuck up. I recognized the cousin’s name as that guy I gave the brownie to, the one you freaked out over? I mean it’s not like there are many  _ Aziraphales  _ walking around,” he gave an obnoxious, high-pitched laugh. “Guess that makes you the fuck up. Honestly mate, I don’t know why you’re upset, I’ve seen you pull way better than that fat little narc.”

The loud crack that rang out when Crowley’s fist made contact with Hastur’s nose was the first thing to make him smile in three days.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Hastur cried out, blood starting to ooze out from between the fingers that he’d clamped across his face. Crowley tried to bolt but Ligur grabbed him from behind. Before he could get a solid hold though Crowley swung his elbow back hard and fast and connected with Ligur’s chin. His head jerked back and smacked against the brick wall behind him. He fell to the ground in a slump, unconscious. “Ligur!” Hastur screamed. “No you fucking don’t!” Crowley had been about to run again but Hastur tackled him and brought him to the ground. They were grappling now, rolling on the pavement, exchanging blows whenever they could. Some of Hasturs blood splashed across Crowley’s face. 

A few drunken onlookers gathered around them and began cheering them on after exiting a bar nearby. Over the clamor the sound of a siren began to ring out clear, a police car had just turned the corner. Crowley could tell Hastur heard it too as he froze for just a second, anger replaced by panic. He seized the opportunity and threw Hastur off him. Then he scrambled to his feet and shoved his way out of the crowd, running as fast as he could. He could hear Hastur shouting and the cops trying to disperse the audience, but didn’t risk looking back even for a second.

He ran back to the Bentley and jumped inside. As he quickly swerved down back alleys and side streets, he silently thanked whatever was listening that he had been able to get away. He ended up pulling into a private parking structure, wanting to get off the street where it’d be more likely he’d be seen. He sat in the dark, panting, listening anxiously for sirens.

His phone rang, making him jump.  _ Fuck.  _ His jaw clenched when he saw who it was. For a few seconds he genuinely considered not answering it but didn’t know if that would make his situation better or worse. He answered it and put it on speaker.

“What the  _ hell  _ are you thinking?!” Bea’s voice shrieked out of the phone, making Crowley wince.

“I-”

“Your parents get a call in the middle of the night from the police, saying that there’s a warrant out for your arrest and you’re nowhere to be found?! And then they call me to try and sort all this shit out! Are you fucking insane?!”

“What was I supposed to do?!”

“NOT FUCKING RUN AWAY, YOU IDIOT!”

“You wanted me to let myself get arrested?!”

“If you had let them take you I could have just paid them off! Now every cop in London is looking for you! Do you have any idea how much time I’m going to spend cleaning up your mess?! How much money this is going to cost the company?!”

“Bea I’m sorr-”

“And now the cops are sniffing around our family, and if I have to explain to you why that’s bad then you’re even stupider than I thought! It’ll be a miracle if I can clean this up without it getting into the papers!”

“FUCK IT ALL THEN!” Crowley screamed at the phone sitting on his passenger’s seat. He had been pushed to the breaking point. His whole life was crumbling in front of him and he didn’t even care. He had never asked for any of it, so why should he? “Fuck it all! Why don’t you just let them arrest me then?! Hmm?! Finally get me out of the way so I can stop being an embarrassment!” he ranted. 

There was silence from the phone. His heart was racing. 

“I am going to clean up this mess. Not for your sake, but to keep the rest of us from taking the fall for your fuck-ups. And when I find you,” Bea growled, “I am going to make you regret ever being born.” They hung up and Crowley was once again left in the dark and the silence to contemplate what was going to happen. 

***

_ “Don’t bother looking for me because you won’t find me! I’ll go off somewhere, I’ll find someone new and I’ll forget all about you!” _

_ Well that went down like a lead balloon.  _

Aziraphale rejecting him a second time really should be much lower on his list of priorities, all things considered. All things considered, saying goodbye to his car shouldn’t even be on the list. But that didn’t stop him from choking up as he put a hand on it’s hood. “You’ve never let me down, but you’re just way too recognizable. I’ll come back for you old girl, I swear,” He needed to get out of London, and his car wasn’t exactly hard to spot. So, as much as it tore at his already broken heart, he was leaving it in a car park before he left town. He gave it a loving pat on the hood, took a deep breath, then went to jump into the unremarkable, grey sedan he had broken into and hotwired. Ironically, that was a skill he had learned from Bea when they were going through a wilder phase of their teenage years. 

That ugly, silver, void of personality box of a car was what had gotten him as far as Tadfield. He would have gone further if he hadn’t run out of petrol. But he didn’t see much point in going any further, now. This quaint, little, unsuspecting village was as good as any other for hiding in.

He bottomed out his third drink and was about to order another when his phone rang. Immediately, he assumed it was Bea and wasn’t going to bother answering, but he glanced at the phone and realized he didn’t recognize the number. Drunken curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up. 

“Hullo?”

“Crowley?”

Crowley nearly fell out of his seat when he heard who it was. 

“Aziraphale?!” His voice was somehow loving, and shocked, and desperate all at once. 

“Yes, It’s me, dear. Are you alright? You seemed… well very distressed when I saw you this morning.”

“Not really,” Crowley croaked, unable to keep himself from smiling slightly. “Everyone wants to kill me and I fucked up my chances with the love of my life,” 

“Oh…” Aziraphale exhaled softly, the single syllable laced with melancholy. “Well if it’s any comfort, things aren’t much better on my end. You were right… I’m afraid my parents aren’t as reasonable as I thought they were,”

“Sorry,” Crowley replied sympathetically. This wasn’t the time for “I told you so’s”. 

“It’s alright, I’ve taken the matter into my own hands,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It… well it sounds rather childish when I put it this way, but I’ve run away from home,”

“You  _ wot _ ?” Crowley squawked.

“Which means I need a place to stay,” Aziraphale soldiered on, ignoring his exclamation of surprise. “I was hoping I could stay with you. I-if you’d have me, that is…”

“Of course!” Crowley said instantly. This was the first good thing that had happened to him in the last four days. “I just- Wait- I need to get the address first,” He frantically waved the bartender over. “Is there a hotel or something nearby? Some place I can stay the night?” he asked her, covering the speaker of the phone with his hand. 

“Mrs. Device runs a bed and breakfast down the road. She should have a room or two open,” she replied. She wrote down the address for Crowley on to a napkin. He squinted at it and read it out slowly for Aziraphale. 

“Did you get that?”

“Yes, yes I think so. I’ll try and get to you as soon as I can,” Aziraphale answered. “But I’m not sure when that will be… My father took my mobile and I don’t have any money,” He sighed heavily. “I’d ask you for a ride but, I take it you coming back to London wouldn’t be a good idea,”

“Yeah no there’s a lot of people looking for me…”

“Well, I’m clever enough,” he joked lightly. “I’ll figure something out,”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding in the bit about Bea stealing cars makes me want to write a spin-off fic about their wild punk band days. Lmao 
> 
> Only 2 chapters left!! Hope you guys are ready lol


	15. Tracked Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale makes his way to Tadfield to rejoin Crowley.

After hanging up with Crowley, Aziraphale stood inside the payphone booth for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only ten minutes. It was the only thing sheltering him from the icy wind outside. Since he had snuck out the window he hadn’t been able to grab his winter coat, so the only thing protecting him from the elements was his wool jumper. Therefore, the phonebooth became his refuge as he contemplated what he was supposed to do next. The only money he had with him was the handful of pounds he had shaken out of the old piggy bank in his childhood bedroom. His wallet had been in his coat pocket. That eliminated calling a cab as an option. He might be able to afford a bus, but he doubted there was a bus that ran all the way to Tadfield. He could call someone, but without his cellphone there was very few numbers he actually had committed to memory. 

On top of that, his fingers were starting to go numb. With no options left, he decided he would try to walk back to his housing complex to see if another student would be willing to give him a ride to Tadfield. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and pushed the door to the booth open. To his surprise, there was someone waiting on the other side. 

“Hello!” standing before him was an older woman in a brightly colored coat that matched the brightly colored curls that were hair-sprayed in place underneath her fluffy earmuffs. “Sorry to be nosey, love, but I live just down across the street and I saw you walking around with no coat on and I thought that you might need a bit of help. Are you alright? Would you like to come in and warm up? Have a cup of tea?” Aziraphale was so relieved he could have kissed this strange, generous woman right on the lips. 

***

“Madame Tracy, honestly, I can never thank you enough,” Aziraphale was sitting in the passenger’s seat of a beat up old VW bug that was covered in bumper stickers. 

“Oh hush, darling, after I heard about everything you’ve gone through, offering you a ride was the least I could do,” Madame Tracy, the lovely but odd woman who had rescued him from the phonebooth in London, was sitting across from him on the driver’s side. After she had brought him into her strangely decorated living room, she asked him why he had been walking around in the middle of winter with no coat. As she fixed him a cup of tea, he answered. 

Though, he probably included more detail than was strictly necessary, considering he started off his answer with “Well I was on designated driver duty for a party and he was holding a tray of green apple schnapps…” At the end of his very long explanation Madame Tracy was almost in tears. 

“That’s it! Let’s get you a coat and get in the car, we are going to Tadfield!” she had said resolutely before picking up the phone to cancel her afternoon appointments. This was in spite of Aziraphale’s protests that he could wait until that evening. She held up a finger to shush him while she yelled into the phone. “We can reschedule for next week Karen! Your husband’s not getting any deader!”

Now they were in Tadfield, parked outside of the quaint little bed and breakfast Crowley had given him the address for. Aziraphale was thanking her profusely while she scrawled her number on to the back of a receipt she had fished out of her glove box. “Now, if you need anything else, anything at all, you just call me dear,” she said with a warm smile as she handed it to him.

“Thank you,” he said one last time, leaning over to give her a hug. Then he opened the door and got out. Waiting for him outside of the car, was Crowley. He paused in a moment of uncertainty. They hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms the past few days. He didn’t know if they could just pick up right where they left off. Crowley, however, did not miss a beat. 

He tilted his head back to look at Aziraphale with his familiar cocky grin. “Nice coat, suits you.” 

Aziraphale blushed and grinned back at him, he was wearing a bright magenta parka that Madame Tracy had lent him. 

“Why thank you.”

Crowley held his arms out, and Aziraphale raced forward, hugging him tightly. Then he felt his chin being tilted up gently by slender fingers and the next thing he knew, his lips were pressed against Crowley’s in a loving kiss. For a moment, he lost himself in the kiss, forgetting all the bad things that had happened, _were happening_ to them. Crowley was warm and gentle and tasted like stale coffee masking the lingering taste of whiskey. He must have been chugging coffee to try and sober up; judging by how he had sounded on the phone, he’d needed it. 

When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against Crowley’s, still holding him close.

“I missed you so much…I’m sorry I didn’t go with you in the first place.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Let’s go inside.”

They walked into the building and found themselves in a warm lobby, decorated with historical artifacts and pictures from Tadfield throughout the ages. No one was standing at the front desk so Aziraphale tapped the small gold bell on the counter to call someone. The girl who emerged from another room and went behind the counter couldn’t have been older than fourteen. She was wearing an old-fashioned looking, black dress with a hem that just stopped short enough to show off pointy granny boots. If it weren’t for her dark purple lipstick and the silver pentacle necklace hanging around her neck, he might have mistaken her to be a part of some devout religious sect. _Not pious, just goth,_ Aziraphale thought to himself. 

“What can I do for you today, gentlemen?” her tone was very business-like and no-nonsense. It was more than a bit funny to hear it coming out of child dressed up as the wicked witch of the west. 

“Ah, hello there. We’d like to rent a room; may we please speak with the manager?” Aziraphale asked in a friendly voice. 

The girl puffed up her shoulders and looked indignant. “Speaking,” she said curtly. Aziraphale stared at her with a puzzled expression, and Crowley gave a little snort of laughter behind him.

“ _You’re_ Mrs. Device?” Crowley asked her with a raised eyebrow. 

“ _Miss_ Device,” she corrected him. “My mother had to go out of town for the weekend so I’m running things in her absence.” 

Crowley’s other eyebrow crept up to join the first one. “And do you think she’d approve of you telling two strange men you’re home all alone for the weekend?”

She paled and her eyes went wide. She began to sputter, trying to retract what she’d said. Aziraphale gave Crowley a light smack across the chest and a scolding glare, feeling bad for the poor girl. “He doesn’t mean that! But you really _should_ probably be a bit more careful, my dear. Anyway, can we please rent a room for a few days?”

“S-sure,” she said, still uneasy as she began typing something into the computer on the counter. “One double bed or two singles?”

“One double,” Crowley supplied, making a bit of color rise to Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“Oh,” she appeared a little surprised at this and the nervousness from before vanished from her face. Aziraphale had to try very hard not to roll his eyes, but was glad she wasn’t scared anymore. “Can I get a name for the room?”

“Ashtoreth,” Crowley answered readily, Aziraphale shot him a look but chose not to question him. 

“And how many nights will you be staying Mr. Ashtoreth?”

They completed the transaction and she gave them a key and told them they would be in the first room on the right on the second floor. 

“Ashtoreth?” Aziraphale asked as soon as they had closed the door to the room behind them. 

“Thought a fake name was in order, considering there are people looking for me, and probably for you too, by now,” Crowley said as he fell backwards into the bed. 

“Sounds like we’re in some kind of spy film,” Aziraphale muttered with a mirthless laugh as he took off his coat. He collapsed next to Crowley in bed, curling up to him and resting his head on his love’s chest. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the soothing sound of Crowley’s heartbeat, rather than allowing his mind to drift to the thought of all the people actively trying to hunt them down. 

For the time being, they were safe. More importantly, they were together. 

Which was good, because their safety would be short lived. 

***

Aziraphale was jolted awake to the feeling of being roughly yanked out of bed. Two very strong people were dragging him down the hall now. They looked like some sort of biker gang, dressed in dark leather and denim. He tried to get a look at their faces but they had covered them; one who might have been a woman had a red bandana tied around the lower half of her face, the other wore large, dark motorcycle goggles and a mask patterned like a skull over his mouth. The one in red was carrying his legs, restraining him from kicking, and the other was lifting his upper half and had one hand firmly clasped over his mouth to muffle his shouting. As he thrashed to get free from his captors, he saw that two more bikers were giving Crowley similar treatment.

They carried them through the building, down the stairs, through a heavy oak door, and down another set of stairs until they were in a very old, dirt cellar. The biker holding his legs dropped them roughly. The other took his hand off Aziraphale’s mouth, but kept his arms pinned behind his back. As soon as his mouth was free, he began to cry out for help. 

“Yell all you want,” someone spoke out, stopping Aziraphale short. It was a person with greasy black hair in an equally slick-looking, black suit, leaning against the back wall. “There aren’t any other guests and the goth girl snuck out with some boy about an hour ago. It’s just us,” they said with a sickening grin. “Don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Bea, Anthony’s cousin,” they motioned at the bikers holding Crowley, who threw him roughly to the floor in front of them. “I’m here to kick his ass.” To illustrate their point, they gave Crowley a swift kick to the stomach. Crowley made a retching noise, followed by a pained groan. Aziraphale let out a cry of concern, beginning to struggle to get his arms free. That was when he noticed the tall figure, dressed in tan, standing next to Bea.

“Uncle Gabriel?!” His presence was somehow the most shocking part of all this. “What are you doing here?!” he asked, frantic and confused.

“I’m here for you, obviously,” Gabriel said, pointing at him. “Your parents called the police but since you’re legally an adult they couldn’t do anything. So, then they called me. I figured you probably ran off with your boyfriend, so I looked up his student files and called his emergency contact number. I got a hold of Bea and coincidentally they were hunting for Crowley too.” He spoke in the same casual, business-like tone he always had; as though they weren’t standing in a cellar with a bunch of criminals. 

“How did you find us?” Crowley gasped, having just gotten his breath back and managing to get to his knees.

Bea pulled out their phone and shook it at Crowley, looking un-amused. “How are you smart enough to steal a different car, but too dumb to turn off ‘find my iPhone’? Honestly, it fucking astounds me.” Then without warning they chucked the phone directly at Crowley, hard. It hit him across the face, making him cry out and leaving a bleeding wound on his temple. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted, his voice rabid with anger and pain at having to watch them hurt his love. 

“Why waste your phone like that?” Gabriel commented, seemingly apathetic to Aziraphale’s shouting or Crowley’s bleeding wound. 

“I’ll buy another one,” Bea replied with a shrug.

Aziraphale whipped his head towards Gabriel, his eyes wide and panicked as he struggled in vain against the man holding him. “Gabriel, why aren’t you doing anything?! How can you just let this happen?!”

“Oh, _shut_ up,” Gabriel sneered at him. “This little _phase_ ,” he gestured, a patronizing version jazz-hands, when he said ‘phase’, “you’re going through has had your parents up my ass lately, and I’m sick of it. And on top of that, you’re making the whole family look bad. I’d beat some sense into you myself if I could, but I don’t want to have to explain that to your father. So, I’m going to watch them beat it into your punk boyfriend instead,” he jerked his head at Bea who grinned evilly. Aziraphale stared at him slacked-jawed, shaken to his core that someone he had known his whole life could be so cruel beneath the surface. He had always known Gabriel’s overly cheerful manner was a façade, but he was genuinely horrified to find out this was what it was concealing. “Hopefully, seeing that will scare you out of this rebellion _thing_ you’re going through.”

“You can’t!” Aziraphale’s voice cracked with fear as he scrambled to think of something to keep them from hurting Crowley. “Y-you can’t because… because I’m a witness!” he tried, his voice getting more confident and steadfast when he grabbed on to an idea and ran with it. “When you let me go I’ll tell the police!” He straightened up his shoulders and tried to hide his fear. 

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, looking stoic for a moment before he broke into an amused laugh. “That’s cute. But it’s not going to happen.”

“No really!” Aziraphale insisted. “I mean it, I wi-”

“No. You won’t.” Gabriel cut him off. “Your parents always said Crowley was dangerous. It would be such a shame if you got caught up in whatever illegal business he was a part of,” he said with his plastic grin. 

“What?”

“Oh my god Aziraphale!” Crowley groaned in frenzied frustration as he finally got to his feet. “If you don’t keep quiet they’re going to hurt you too!”

“Isn’t he supposed to be smart?” Bea asked, glancing at Gabriel who sighed and rolled his eyes. 

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as he looked around at the bikers who were now leering at him like hungry dogs. The one with the red bandanna cracked her knuckles aggressively.

“Well!” Aziraphale had meant to follow up that single word with an explanation of why they couldn’t do that. However, his brain failed to produce such an explanation. He gulped hard as he realized the gravity of the situation he was in. His heart was pounding and though his mind raced for a solution, it came up blank every time. They were trapped in every sense of the word. If they couldn’t figure out a way out of this, they would never see each other again; and more importantly he was beginning to worry Crowley might not even make it out alive. Out of ideas, in the throes of desperation, he locked eyes with Crowley.

_“Do something!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Penultimate chapter!!!!!!!!!!! We're almost there!
> 
> Thanks again to my beta readers brotherpigeon and captainazfell!
> 
> also did anyone pick up on the fact that the bikers are the 4 horsemen lol 0.0


	16. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley must figure out a plan to end all this insanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FINAL CHAPTER

_“Do something!”_

Crowley’s head was spinning from Bea’s phone hitting his temple. His heart pounded in his ears, blocking out his thoughts. Everyone was looking at him now. Aziraphale with desperation and concern, Gabriel and Bea bemused as they awaited his next move. He knew this pause wouldn’t last for long, but he needed more time to think of a plan. He had their attention now, he needed to make it last, needed to buy some time.

He cleared his throat loudly. He felt every set of eyes in the room on him, waiting to see what he would say. His mind raced for something to do; a million thoughts spun around in his pain addled brain. Then he adjusted his clothes, dusting himself off, making his posture casual. Finally, he grabbed on to an idea that might work and went with it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. Then in the coolest, most laid-back tone he could muster he said, “So Bea, show me how to turn off ‘find my iPhone’ would you?”

Without missing a beat Bea burst out laughing. Gabriel looked as though the both of them were insane. “Fucking hell Anthony, I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.” They gawked at him. “You know, it’s almost admirable how dedicated you are to being a childish twat. And it’s going to make this a hell of a lot more satisfying.”

Without warning Bea took a swing at him, landing a solid right hook to his nose and sending him sprawling backwards. Hot blood came rushing down his lips and the back of his throat, making him gag. They knocked the phone out of his hand and he heard it skid across the floor.

_Good._ He thought.

The fact that they threw it aside meant they didn’t realize it was still _recording._ They had been so distracted by the fact that he had the audacity to make a joke, that they didn’t realized what he was actually doing. When he had been pretending to unlock his phone, he had actually slid the camera button up, hit record, then pressed the home button six times; which made it record with the screen dark. If he ever saw Hastur again, he’d have to thank him for that one, _the fucking_ _creep_.

He wasn’t given much time to appreciate the brilliance of his plan. Bea lunged at him. He tried to dive out of the way but was grabbed by one of the bikers. He thrashed to try and get out of his grip. He had to get back to his phone. Getting them threatening him on video wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t have his phone.

“LET ME GO!” he could hear Aziraphale shouting and see him in his periphery. He was putting up a decent fight in his own right, he had managed to headbutt one of the bikers in the face and now was being held down by the other two.

Bea took another shot at him, this time in the gut. Then another. His body screamed in pain. It was getting hard to think.

“H-he-… hey, Gabriel!” Crowley managed to choke out between Bea’s onslaught, causing them to pause. Gabriel raised an eyebrow when Crowley addressed him. “Don’t you want a turn?”

Gabriel sneered and looked skeptical. “No thank you, this suit is expensive and does not need your blood on it,”

“Oh, come on,” Crowley jeered, mustering up his last bit of energy to try and grin. “My arm’s going numb from this bastard holding it. Get him to put me down and I’ll give you one clear shot right to the face. If I’m lucky, maybe you’ll knock me out and we can be done here. You know you want to!” He taunted. There was a pause.

“Fuck it, why not?” Gabriel smirked, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

Bea looked confused and furious, starting to protest. “Hey, if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be in this mess, I should get one punch.” Gabriel insisted. They said nothing but motioned the biker to put Crowley down in begrudging agreement.

Crowley stumbled but tried to position himself where he wanted. He only had one chance at this. He steadied himself and waited. Gabriel drew his arm back and hit Crowley with a punch that would have shattered his jaw had he not been prepared. He rolled with the punch so that it got him in the side of the head instead. Then he dove, making it look like Gabriel had knocked him off his feet. He groaned loudly, curling up into a ball on the floor. He heard Gabriel laughing at him.

Even with every inch of his body in agony, he couldn’t help but smile when he hit the send button. He sat up slowly. “Wouldn’t be laughing if I were you.” He said, holding up his phone and shaking it. When he went down, he had landed right on top of it, and when he curled up, he hid his hands from view so he could quickly finish his plan. “Considering I just sent a twenty minute video of both of you committing assault to my friend Eve, who will happily pass it along to the police if I tell her to.”

He watched the blood drain from Bea and Gabriel’s faces with almost perfect synchronization.

“Now I suggest,” Crowley said as he painstakingly got to his feet, body shaking from what it just endured. “That the two of you fuck off, and not bother us anymore.” He heard a burst of shocked laughter from across the room and turned to see Aziraphale, now out of the bikers’ grip, looking at him with a smile that said he was absolutely pleased as punch. Crowley flashed an exhausted, but satisfied, smile back at him.

Gabriel huffed indignantly, Bea looked so angry they might physically explode, but neither needed much convincing after that.

The whole ridiculous lot of them trudged up the stairs. Aziraphale had Crowley’s arm over his shoulders, propping him up so he could walk. A persistent dull ache in his side, that suddenly turned sharp each time he took a deep breath, made him think that he might have a broken rib. He would have to tell Aziraphale to take him to the hospital, but not while Bea was still in earshot. He refused to give them the satisfaction. They all reached the main floor and came to a sudden stop. Crowley was about to ask what the hold-up was when he locked eyes with Anathema who was currently sneaking in the back door. She had a half empty bottle of white wine in her hand, and a lanky, dark haired boy with thick glasses cowering behind her. She stared, wide-eyed at the gaggle of bikers, pair of well-dressed business people, and two bloodied students standing in her kitchen. They stared back. It was a very unusual impasse.

Crowley broke the silence, croaking out;

“We won’t tell if you don’t.”

Everyone nodded in silent agreement. There was no need to tell anyone’s mother, or the police. Their unspoken contract established, everyone exited the kitchen and went on their way.

***

_Epilogue_

A small metal bell jingled as Crowley pushed the door to the ancient bookshop open. The smell of dust tickled his nose and he smiled when a voice called out from the back “Be with you in a moment!”

Seconds later Aziraphale emerged, carrying a stack of tomes to be shelved. His face erupted in a grin when he spotted Crowley. He set the books down and scurried over to greet him. After checking to see there were no customers around, he leaned in to give him a kiss. Crowley smiled at him warmly when their lips parted.

“Brought you something.” He held up a croissant wrapped in paper in one hand and an iced coffee in the other.

“Oh, how thoughtful,” Aziraphale chirped as he took them from him. “but don’t you think your boss is going to object to you taking so many free pastries?”

“Who’s going to tell him?” Crowley replied cheekily, getting a scolding look from Aziraphale.

“Thank you for the croissant but no more after today. You know very well you cannot lose this job.” Aziraphale insisted. Though Crowley noted his attitude didn’t stop him from tucking into the croissant almost immediately.

It was true, the tips he got at the café were paying a significant chunk of their rent at the moment. After he quit school and fell out with his parents, he had to get two jobs just to keep living in London. That was over a year ago now. It felt like a lifetime. He hardly thought about them anymore, if he was honest.

Bea had made good on their promise to leave him alone. They even got the police to drop the warrant for his arrest, though he suspected that was just to keep them from investigating the family. While Gabriel had buggered off as well, Aziraphale’s parents eventually reached out to him. They still hadn’t apologized though, so Aziraphale was keeping them at arm’s length.

Even with two jobs, he couldn’t afford to stay in his old penthouse flat. He didn’t care though, he liked his new one better. His favorite part about it was that Aziraphale lived there too. It was a cozy little garden flat, close to the campus of the Imperial College London; where Aziraphale had been accepted and offered a grant to finish his undergraduate degree. When he wasn’t in class, Aziraphale helped out with the bills by working part time in a bookshop he had always used to frequent as a customer. The man who ran it was ancient, wealthy, and rarely actually made it in to work. This suited Aziraphale just fine because it meant that he was overpaid and usually had the run of the place.

“Well I have to get going, don’t want to be late.” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale in for a hug goodbye.

“Oh, right! Your apprenticeship starts today! Good luck!” Aziraphale said in an excited tone, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Thanks, angel.” Crowley beamed at him.

A year ago, he would have never believed his art was good enough to do anything besides clutter up his room with sketchbooks. However, Aziraphale was so convinced that he was good enough to be a professional artist, that Crowley had started to believe it himself. After weeks of nagging, Aziraphale managed to coerce him into putting together a portfolio.

At first, he hadn’t known what to do with the damn thing, but then Eve asked him if he could help her sketch an idea for her next tattoo and it sparked an idea in his brain. He casually just happened to tag along with her when she got her tattoo, and Eve casually just happened to mention to the artist he was the one who had drawn the design. By the end of her session, he was chatting up the shop owner, being his boisterous, charming self, all while showing off pictures of his art on his phone. They asked for his number, and for him to send them his portfolio and that was it; less than a week later they asked him to come on as an apprentice.

It felt like everything in his life was finally going according to plan.

… a fucked up, convoluted, frustrating, lengthy, and _ineffable_ , as Aziraphale might say, plan. But a good one, none the less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL!!!!!!
> 
> *Y'ALL!!!!!!!*
> 
> WE MADE IT TO THE END!!!!
> 
> I am SO grateful to everyone who's stuck around for this prolonged nonsense, and I genuinely hope you guys enjoyed it! 
> 
> It is by far the longest thing I've ever written and that fills me with a sense of pride, satisfaction, and deep, deep shame XD
> 
> Anyway now I can finally move on to writing other projects!!! Like... various spin-off fics to this au lmao
> 
> But seriously, I'm thinking of writing maybe a few one-shots to go along with this, including a spin-off about teenage Bea and their punk band "Prince's of Hell". Would you folks be interested in that? Or should I just wipe get back to writing normal fanfic? 
> 
> Thanks to LieutenantCharlesLorem (aka captainazfell) for being my very dedicated beta reader
> 
> And one last thanks to you for reading <3<3<3


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